The Flaw in the System
by Wings of Indigo
Summary: Bodies are nothing new for the Jeffersonian forensic team- nor are bodies in unusual places or circumstances. But the body of a ten year old girl, uncovered in the graveyard of an old state asylum, leads the team to a case where in order to catch a killer, they're going to have to catch his latest target: a girl who will do anything to stay out of the system. B/B, major OC. T
1. Prologue

**Well, here's a new story that popped into my head, watching Bones and reading fic. As always let me know what you think by leaving a review!**

**Love, Wings**

* * *

_Western Virginia State Hospital_, the tired and worn sign at the turn off declared in peeling and flaking letters. On top of a small rise above the drive, a collection of buildings were clustered around a large grey and white structure.

At the core of the mass of construction was a hulking stone structure built in the soaring, ornamented style of the eighteen hundreds. The cupola of the building towered several stories over the other buildings.

Emmaline Stewart, an ambitious student double majoring in Sociology and Anthropology at George Washington University, stared out the window at the tower through the thick foliage as the van turned up the drive. She wasn't the only one as the rowdy conversation within the van of college students hushed suddenly as they all turned to look.

With such a large facility being so close to D.C, George Washington University had acquired ties to the hospital in the recent past. So it was only natural that most of the students here today knew the stories about the place whether they were strictly true or not. Most of them were the sort of gory campfire stories students liked to scare each other with during overnights and so as a result had almost no credibility.

Western Virginia Hospital had been built in the early decades of the nineteenth century- the first director had been one of the founding thirteen members of the American Psychiatric Association, and had worked closely with Dorethea Dix herself. The institution had been a model for the treatment of mental disorders. For years, it was Virginia's largest state funded facility, with numerous expansions in the twenties, fifties, and sixties that had turned it into the sprawling complex it was now.

But in more modern years, the ideas on which the hospital had been founded upon and strived for had crumbled with the aging stonework and helped to doom the structure as budgets slowly but surely dried up and the winds of public opinion shifted away from institutionalization.

The van stopped climbing; instead taking a more circular route around the back of the complex, and the cupola vanished again behind the foliage. The cheerful conversation resumed and soon the van jerked to a stop, the students piling out in one laughing, chattering mass.

Emma grimaced as she felt raindrops on her head and pulled up the hood of her jacket. Jumping out of the van after her fellow Anthropology students, she caught her first glimpse of Western Hospital in its entirety.

Located in the center of what must have been ten or fifteen outbuildings, wings and additional wards, the old original stone structure and cupola reined undisputed king over them all. Despite the crumbling façade and ornamentation, the old hospital still had the power to humble with its impressiveness.

However, instead of the air of security and confident grandeur she supposed it was meant to project, the building looked ominous to Emma- as though it was waiting for people to swallow.

_Stop it. _Emma scolded herself. The hospital was a building like any of the others.

"Your first look at Western?" A male voice said, off to her right. Emma turned, seeing one of her anthropology classmates; Josh, out of her peripheral vision.

"Yeah," she replied, turning around to follow the rest of the students. Josh, she noticed with a touch of flattery, fell into step beside her.

"I thought so- most people look like that when they see it for the first time. It's impressive, no doubt."

Emma thought of the looming grey hulk and shuddered. "It's like a fortress. I don't suppose the rain helps it be any less disturbing."

He grinned at her. "A _haunted_ fortress, remember; and no, this month's lovely transplanted weather has only added to Western's personal aura."

She rolled her eyes at the 'haunted' jibe. "Please. We're science nerds. Ghosts don't exist."_On the other hand _Emma thought as she glanced back,_ if they did exist, there would certainly be more than a few in there. _

Josh shrugged. "I suppose, but way to spoil the mood, Emma." Emma felt a little thrill that he knew her name, right before she told the giggling girly side of her to shut up.

"If by 'mood' you mean the completely depressing and creepy atmosphere, don't worry, it's still there." She said sarcastically, negotiating her way around several puddles in the path. "Complete with the still in use Psych Ward."

It was true- Western State still had a handful of patients in residence. It had only ceased admitting three months ago, and while most of the patients had been either discharged or transferred, several were still waiting for transfers to other facilities- the ones who were unlikely to ever be completely discharged.

Emma thought about the people locked up in those cold, dreary buildings and shuddered again.

"What, are you scared of the crazies?" Josh asked teasingly. "Don't worry; I'm sure I can manage to keep you safe. Seriously, though, it's just a building. What's to be afraid of?"

Emma shot him a mock annoyed glance. "It's just so sad." She murmured, focusing her attention back on the muddy path. Ahead of them, about half of the group continued straight, while the other half took another path leading back up to the main complex. "How many people, do you think, walked in those doors and never walked out again? How many people have been forgotten here?"

Josh was quiet for a moment. "I don't know. But that's why we're here."

Emma nodded. "Damn right. Can you believe that they're going to turn _that_ into luxury condos?"

She referred to the current plan for the old asylum- when the state announced the hospital's closure, there was an immense public outcry over the proposed demolition of such a 'historic' structure. Unwilling to risk public displeasure and equally unwilling to keep the enormous resource drain, the state had sold the property to a developing firm. As soon as the current patients were gone, construction crews would take their place.

Josh shook his head emphatically. "I can't imagine they're going to sell well. Scientific disbelief in the paranormal and all that, but I wouldn't live there without a _very_ good reason."

"Me neither." Emma agreed. She might have been a rational, skeptic science student, but the thought of living here made her cringe. It sounded far to like the premise of a horror movie; but surprisingly, some of the wealthier government and business people in DC were already looking to buy… or so it was rumored.

"I'm gonna go get to work. We've got to get the wealthy idiots in as soon as possible after all."

A dozen feet ahead of them was a large jumble of grave markers, interspersed with several low hanging sycamore and cedar trees. Across the expanse were scattered groups of students carefully excavating graves under the eye of several anthropology and archeology professors. That was why the Washington students were there on the grounds of the old asylum.

After the announcement of the hospital's sale and closure, a few crews had come in to do preliminary surveying. They'd brought with them an unusually wet spring; this part of the state had received several more inches of rainfall than usual. On the crew's trip across the grounds, they'd stumbled across the sprawling graveyard- literally stumbled, in fact; erosion caused by the recent rainfall was washing away the soil and beginning to expose some of the more relatively recent graves.

And since having skeletons popping out of the ground on the site of a luxury condo was neither good for selling condos or the state's image, the anthropology departments at several universities had been called on to help excavate and relocate the graves. It was also 'encouraged' that they identify as many remains as possible before they were reburied in a new memorial on the grounds.

George Washington had been the only one to respond in number; the University of Virginia was sending a team up in the summer, but the remains needed to be preserved now. The other half of students, the ones heading to the main hospital complex, were searching through decades of old paper records in the hopes of compiling a list of patients buried and those likely to have been buried on the grounds, along with any possible individual identifying markers.

"Do you mind if- can I work with you?" Josh asked, sounding both eager and slightly unsure.

Emma glanced at him in surprise before smiling warmly. "Of course, I'd like that."

Like it? The giggly girl side was bouncing with happiness. Emma tried not to give into her girly side to much, both of her chosen subjects were competitive fields and she had no intention of letting her personal life sidetrack her from her goals. But that didn't mean she didn't want a personal life.

"Great." He smiled back. "I'll go ask Professor Slater where she wants us to work."

"And I'll get the tools." Emma agreed.

Fifteen minutes later, they were both bent over a plot marked only with a weathered stone block carved with a four digit number. The rain had stopped, but the air was increasingly muggy.

"What is this, Florida?" Emma complained, stopping for a second to wipe her face. Josh arched an eyebrow as he leaned on his own shovel.

"Well, considering that you're not wearing a Gators shirt and there are no palm trees that I can see, no, it's not. But the weather certainly belongs in Florida. Do you want to take a break for awhile?"

"We just started." She protested. "Maybe… why don't we work for another fifteen minutes and then we can go take a break for a couple minutes."

"You're a hard taskmaster, partner. But I suppose I can agree to that."

"Nope, I'm just driven." Emma rejoined. "I didn't get here by being afraid of hard work."

"And I imagine you didn't choose to double major because it was easy." Josh agreed. Emma looked up at him sharply. Josh laughed.

"Don't be surprised, be flattered. The profs talk about you sometimes and I'm a TA; I hear a lot."

"And what do you hear?" Emma said, curious- but also feeling her heart beating strangely fast. Josh grinned again- this time, less friendly and more inviting.

"A lot of good things." Then he backed off a bit, back to the friendly, easy going persona. "Don't worry; I don't need help on my term paper or anything; that's not why I wanted to work with you. I just- wanted to ask if maybe you would like to, I don't know, go have lunch together or something?"

Emma smiled. "Sure. I'm free." Dumping her last shovelful of dirt aside, she noticed a sliver of white out of the corner of her eye. She glanced down- it was the white of bone, no doubt of it.

"Josh!" She shouted, getting down on her knees to brush away the loose dirt. "Look!"

Her partner bent down beside her. Emma's careful, efficient gloved fingers had exposed the curve of a rib- one that now undoubtedly still had flesh attached.

"Oh, wow." He said quietly, lunch date also temporarily forgotten. Emma and Josh's eyes met, and Emma nodded.

"That's right. These aren't what we're looking for. These are recent." They looked at each other in understanding. Josh nodded back and stood up.

"I'll get the professor."


	2. Ch 1: The Girl in the Graveyard

**Hello! Here's a bit of timeline info- this story takes place during season 6, after ****_The Feet on the Beach_****. Based on official airdates versus holidays and events referenced in episodes, I think the episodes are meant to occur within two to three days of the official air date. (ex. ****_The Bikini in the Soup_**** being set on Valentine's Day, but airing on the 17th). This means that ****_The Feet on the Beach_**** begins on April 3rd, 2011, and this story begins several days after ****_The Feet on the Beach_****, but before the events of ****_The Truth in the Myth_**** and ****_The Finder_****. **

_Chapter 1: The Girl in the Graveyard_

* * *

Booth drove along the cracking pavement street in rural Virginia, taking in the scenery as he looked for the sign he was supposed to turn off at. It had been a two and a half hour drive from DC, and despite the fact that he knew he was headed to a crime scene, he was more than ready for the chance to get out of the car.

About three hours ago, the Bureau had gotten a call from a Sheriff Jonathan Lynch. A body had been discovered by a pair of university students in the graveyard of a closed asylum. That was as much as Booth had been briefed on- Brennan had insisted on leaving directly after the Jeffersonian had been contacted, and Booth had barely gotten to work when the call was received.

And since Bones had been so insistent that she and her squint squad head out immediately, Booth had barely enough time to grab a second coffee before being ordered out to accompany her. _With only the sketchiest of briefings to go on_, he griped. He'd been promised he'd be briefed further when he got to the scene.

Spying the words _Western Virginia State Hospital_ in flaking white paint on a drenched concrete sign at the next turn off, Booth pulled onto the drive. Evergreen and cypress trees sopping wet from the recent rainstorm dripped onto the car windshield, creating an omnipresent gloominess that was hard to ignore.

As he steered around the curving drive, Booth tried to review what he knew of the case so far. Two university students had been working on a project in the asylum's old graveyard; he assumed that it had been sanctioned, since they hadn't been mentioned to be in custody. They had been digging around the graves, and had found a body that apparently did not belong there.

The drive ended abruptly, and Booth parked at the edge of the pavement, next to a van with the Jeffersonian's Medico-Legal lab's logo. Spotting the taped off area not too far away, he grabbed his raincoat out of the car and shrugging it on, quickly walked toward it.

He hadn't gone too far before he saw an officer in the county police uniform headed for him.

"Special Agent Booth?" The man asked. Booth nodded, flashing his badge for good measure. "I'm Sheriff Lynch." The man introduced himself. "I can bring you up to speed while we walk."

Booth nodded. "That's fine. What happened?"

The sheriff didn't waste time or words. "The hospital officially closed down about a month ago; most of the patients have been transferred. Construction crews for the firm that purchased and is repurposing the property discovered an older graveyard on the property. It made the news."

"Yeah, I remember." Well, he sort of did- not the official news report, but he vaguely recalled Bones mentioning something about it. Mostly about the need for anthropologists to work on the site and her own willingness to volunteer.

Sheriff Lynch shrugged. "The George Washington University anthropology department sent some students and a handful of professors to help identify and remove the remains for re-burial. A pair of students was working on one site when they found a body they identified as being recently buried there. They notified their professor, who called us, and we called you."

Booth processed this. "Where are they?"

"They're over by the site. They insisted on sticking around- in fact, the whole class did. They're still working on graves we okayed for them."

"Dedicated kids," Booth observed. The sheriff nodded.

"Most of them. George Washington was the only school so far to send people to help with this."

By now, they had come up to the taped-off area. A tent cover had been set up over a small pit, underneath which three figures were kneeling, hard at work. Booth ducked beneath the tape.

"I'm going to need to speak with the students who discovered the body."

"Be my guest," The sheriff replied. "They're over there." He waved at a pair of students- a brunette girl and tall, lanky boy- standing beside the crime scene tape. The girl had her hood down, despite the rain.

"Thanks." Booth said, walking over to where the three jumpsuited figures were working- Hodgins, Cam, and Bones.

"Hey Bones," he said, trying to not be too cheery. "Whatcha got?"

"The remains are female," Bones said from her kneeling position by the shallow grave. Looking down into it, Booth could see that the skeleton, still with a significant amount of decaying flesh, was heartbreakingly small. Instantly his mood, which had not been that great to begin with, plummeted. "The nearly complete fusion of the skull indicates the victim is older than nine, while slight widening of the pelvic bone indicates onset of puberty."

Hodgins and Cam both looked up from their work; all four of them exchanged a look that said it all.

"How old would you say, Bones?" Booth asked. He knew no matter what his partner said, all four of them were going to hate the answer.

Brennan looked up from the small body. "Between eight and eleven; probably about ten."

They were all hushed for a moment. They had all seen their fair share of bodies, each of which was a tragic loss, but whenever the body belonged to a child, it took a case's seriousness to a whole new level.

"I hate when it's a kid," Hodgins muttered, looking down at his collection of bugs. He held up one. "Periplaneta Americana," the entomologist announced.

"Based on the insect life, the body's been here a little over two weeks. It doesn't appear to have been moved at all."

Booth nodded, looking back over at the small body Cam and Bones were now preparing for transport back to the Jeffersonian.

"Thanks guys. I'm going to go talk to the kids who found… well."

Booth walked carefully around the crime scene, when he was surprised to see Bones stand up, removing her gloves.

"I'll come with you. I want to meet the students who discovered the remains."

To say Booth was surprised was an understatement. "Why?"

"I want to thank them for the excellent work they did with the remains. The remains had not been disturbed when I got here, aside from being carefully exhumed. Sheriff Lynch told me when I arrived that the students who discovered the body were responsible for doing so."

"Fine by me, Bones." Booth shrugged. "I thought the county coroner did that?"

Bones gave him a glance. "No. The Sheriff was quite irritated when he mentioned that the students prohibited the coroner from removing the body. Apparently the coroner was utilizing several inappropriate methods of analysis in his examination."

Booth smirked slightly, despite the melancholy mood the body had cast upon everyone. With such a rural area, no doubt the coroner had been trying to get away with as little work as possible, and two college students without degrees had called him on it.

Ducking under the crime scene tape again, and holding it for Bones, he eyed the two students. They were fairly average looking; the girl was short and pretty in a studious sort of way, while the boy was tall and lanky with the height and build of a basketball player.

_Not Varsity, though. Probably plays intramural, or played in high school. _

"Hello, I'm FBI Special Agent Booth, this is my partner Doctor Temperance Brennan of the Jeffersonian. You two found the body?"

The girl's mouth popped open as she looked at Brennan- but she recovered quickly, and nodded her head.

"Yes. I'm Emmaline Stewart, this is my- friend, Josh. We're at Georgetown. We were working together when we found her."

Booth hid a smile at the girl's awe of Bones- he also noticed that she referred to the body as _her_, not as _it_.

"Can you describe how?" Booth asked. Emma looked doubtful for a minute. "We already gave statements to the police-"

Booth suppressed a flash of irritation. He'd be lucky if he got much out of the county police- and besides, he hated being dependent on other organizations for information.

Emma must have caught this, because she quickly backtracked. "Sure. Josh and I were working at excavating one of the gravesites; this one was marked with a small numbered block in place of a headstone. We had been able to match the number to some of the older records, of a mid thirties male who died in the late twenties. Josh and I were talking when I saw the body in the dirt."

"And you notified your professor."

This time, Josh answered. "Yeah. Emma noticed that she'd uncovered a bit of bone, and when she realized that it wasn't the type of body we were looking for, she had me go get the professor while she finished with the remains."

"You did very well," Brennan broke in. "Your work preparing the body for a more experienced professional to examine was valuable in the process of my investigation, particularly for someone with such little forensic training."

Booth winced at the backhanded compliment, but from the thrilled look on Emma's face, she didn't care that Brennan's words could have been taken as an insult. Obviously, the girl was meeting her hero.

"You didn't notice anything unusual about the site?" Booth questioned, determined not to let the interview get off track.

"Unusual how?" Emma asked, still looking a bit awestruck.

"Like, was the site disturbed, or defaced…? You know, did it stand out from the others?"

Emma shook her head. "Most of these graves are unmarked, and before we started this project, we used to find party remnants from the local high schools all over the place. The graves that are marked are pretty much all disturbed in some way."

"You're sure there was no difference? The growth wasn't shorter there, or anything?" Booth probed.

Josh shook his head. "We're Anthro students, Agent Booth, not botanists. Besides, this graveyard is huge. We have to work it in sections. About a week before we start a new section, the grounds crew comes in and mows all of the overgrowth down, so we can look of signs of burials that might not be marked. Any difference in the overgrowth would have been obliterated long before we started working."

Booth sighed. "Well, thanks for your help." He quickly wrote down the FBI contact number. "Call this number if you remember anything."

Both of them took the number, before heading off to join their fellow students.

"She was pretty impressed with you, Bones." Booth said, grinning. "You've made that girl's week, probably."

Brennan looked confused. "I'm not sure what you mean, Booth. It's natural to be impressed when a student meets a respected leader in their chosen field. Ms. Stewart's admiration is purely academic and professional in nature."

Booth shook his head mentally at Brennan's obliviousness to the fact that she was probably the girl's personal hero. "Yeah, sure Bones. Let's get back to D.C before we get any wetter."

* * *

One two and a half hour drive and forty five minutes later, the remains were laid out on the forensic platform of the lab. Brennan, Cam, and Wendell were examining them. The atmosphere was filled with the same uneasy tension that descended whenever the body on the autopsy slab belonged to a child.

Cam, Brennan, and Wendell worked over the remains in solemn near-silence. Carefully, the team noted the external evidence before removing it, to be taken to Hodgins later.

Wendell had already begun when Brennan and Cam arrived.

"She- the victim- was wearing a cotton t-shirt and jeans; and socks but no shoes. There's a hospital bracelet on her left wrist, but while the plastic is still in good condition, the ID sticker is illegible. I'm hoping Hodgins can tell us more." Wendell said apologetically.

Brennan nodded, pulling on a pair of latex gloves. "Hodgins should have some methods of recreating the printing on the ID sticker. Thank you, Mr. Bray."

Cam put on her own pair of disposable gloves. "Having an ID bracelet is a strong indicator that the victim was a hospital patient at the time of death."

"Not necessarily," Brennan argued. "She could have left the bracelet on after being discharged or leaving a clinical setting."

Cam gave her a look. "Have you ever kept one of those things on longer than you had to? They itch like crazy. Whenever I have one, I take it off as soon as possible."

Brennan nodded. "A valid point," She conceded.

Cam nodded, and the three of them set to work. Cam was carefully sorting through what was left of the flesh, while Brennan conducted her own preliminary examination before the bones were cleaned for further examination.

"There are very few external wounds that occurred before death- nothing that could be considered cause of death." Cam said. "That's surprising."

Brennan considered this. "Without any serious injuries before death, the cause of death itself could be internal in nature, one which would not leave any obvious or lasting external signs."

"Poison?" Wendell suggested shrewdly. "An accidental overdose?"

"That's one possibility. Soft tissue damage or pre-existing conditions are also possibilities we have yet to rule out."

Cam sighed. "Still, I'm going to run a tox screen just to be sure. It should tell us something interesting- otherwise healthy ten year olds don't wind up buried in abandoned cemeteries without a reason."

Brennan nodded, gently cradling the tiny skull as she examined it.

"Wait. There's a hairline fracture in the skull near the temple." Brennan moved over so that Cam and Wendell could see her discovery.

Cam peered at the tiny crack, barely visible in between the scraps of desiccated tissue still clinging to the scalp. "Could that be cause of death?"

"It's possible," Brennan began. "The amount of force required to leave a visible crack in the skull would certainly cause significant brain damage."

"And a head wound would explain the lack of external ante mortem injuries." Wendell added.

Brennan nodded. "The location of the skull fracture near the temple is known to cause severe injury, including unconsciousness, coma, and paralysis. But instantaneous death from such a wound is relatively rare."

"But it is possible," Cam pressed.

"Yes, but it is far more likely that the injury caused severe brain damage resulting in unconsciousness and or paralysis, which itself, left untreated, could cause death."

Cam frowned, looking back down at the tiny fracture. "Left untreated for how long?"

"Perhaps an hour to an hour and a half, before becoming irreversibly fatal." Brennan stated.

Now it was Wendell's turn to frown. "If she was in some sort of medical facility near time of death, then wouldn't such a long period without treatment for such an injury be unlikely? Any hospital with an accident like that in it's facility would be subject to investigation at the very least-"

Cam's head shot up with an expression that, in cartoons, was often accompanied by a lightbulb flashing on.

"What?" Wendell asked, somewhat startled.

"The body was found on the grounds of Western Virginia State Psychiatric Hospital," Cam began, going over to the computer. "They had a death on the property several months ago, I remember reading an article about it. The county halted admissions and transfers pending investigation; what they found made them close the facility for good. The investigation concluded about two weeks ago, the decision to close was announced around then."

She typed in a search, querying through the county autopsy reports.

"Near time of death," Wendell observed.

Cam nodded. "If I remember correctly, the cause of death was similar to this-"

Finally, Cam found what she was looking for. The autopsy brief released to the public popped up onto the screen.

"Rebecca Anderson. Death caused by complications from severe head wound to left temple suffered after falling down a flight of stairs." Wendell read. He turned to Cam, beginning to understand her epiphany.

"If our victim was a patient at the same hospital and had a similar accident before the investigation concluded or even began, the staff would have tried to conceal the incident in hopes of keeping the hospital open- and their jobs," Cam elaborated.

"Which would have led them to bury her in the graveyard, hopefully covering up the incident." Wendell finished.

Brennan looked doubtful- and disapproving. "That's possible, but formatting conclusions before proper gathering and examination of evidence can only lead to incorrect conclusions and the formation of misconceptions and false beliefs based on ideas not yet indicated by solid evidence. Furthermore, it is inappropriate to be theorizing on the victim's history when we do not even have an identification or facial reconstruction to obtain an id from."

"I can help with that," Angela's voice said from the other end of the platform. All three turned as the pregnant artist walked over to the autopsy slab. "You guys need a face?"

"That would be very helpful," Brennan said, stepping back to let Angela take the pictures she needed.

Cam nodded. "Thank you, Ange. Anyway," she continued, stripping off her gloves before tossing them in the trash, "I'm going to go run the tox screen; hopefully that can tell us something. Wendell, would you mind running the clothes to Dr. Hodgins?"

"No, I'll be on it as soon as Dr. Brennan is finished." Wendell replied. Cam nodded her thanks and left the platform, heading to her office.

"It's so sad when it's a kid," Angela said, finishing her pictures. "I'll get work on these right away."

"Thank you, Angela," Brennan said, stripping off her own gloves. "Please let me know when Dr. Saroyan had finished her formal autopsy."

"Will do, honey." Angela said, giving her a soft, sad smile as she walked down off the platform.

"Here, Ange, I'll come with you. I have to take these to Hodgins anyway," Wendell said, hoisting the plastic box of evidence.


	3. Ch 2: The Clue on the Corpse

**A/N: Okay, this chapter is not as long as I would like, but I feel the need to get something posted, and stop feeling so lazy. Anyway, OMG THE PREMIRE! I legit, no kidding, cried. Not bawling on the floor, but I don't cry over TV shows very often, and so that was huge. For the next few days after that, I just went around thinking that there WAS NO WAY. And anyway, in case anyone reading this hasn't seen the Season 10 premiere yet, and as a courtesy to the possible future reader who might not want spoilers for a season they haven't gotten to, I simply say that what happens in episode one will not happen here. THERE IS NO WAY. END OF STORY. (I really needed to say that!) Also, correction for the note in the previous chapter. I meant 2011, not 2010. But you probably figured that!**

_**kataang0508- Thank you so much! It's always wonderful to hear that you're hitting the right tone with your story, and not going off into your own imaginings of it. Especially with fanfiction! **_

_**Wesley1501- Thanks for reviewing both chapters! Your lovely compliments warm my heart- I am trying really hard to write well with this story, like it is an actual novel. Previous works have not been to the best of my ability, and I'm trying to challenge myself to do better!**_

**_TVismydrug- Thank you for pointing that out. What I originally meant was that they were from Georgetown, as in, they lived and went to school in that part of DC. Later research pointed out that George Washington University is not in Georgetown, though there is a Georgetown University. The similar names just got mixed up._**

_**DemonCats, Dr. SecretAgentMan, FFLover 4ever, kataang0508, Flash On A Bone, HiISay, MusaMortis, Ondiac, Wesley1501, baiters08, caligirl538, hail hydra, haydenchick22- thank you all for faving and/or following. It means a lot.**_

**_Disclaimer_****: I tried to make the forensic procedures and things as accurate as possible, but I'm not a pathologist, or a forensic scientist. I am a pre-nursing student who has barely had a month of basic anatomy. Science corrections will be gratefully accepted. **

_Chapter 2: The Clue on the Corpse_

* * *

Booth was frustrated. Since the team had returned from Virginia, the squints taking the body back to the lab, and he returning to his office in the FBI building, he had been working on getting records from the old hospital for people who might know anything- nurses, doctors, staff; even fellow patients.

Without a positive ID, he may as well have been wasting his time from a logical standpoint. They didn't even know that the victim had been a hospital patient where she was found. But Booth had a nagging feeling that there had been some connection between the unknown girl and the falling down hospital, and he had begun to act on it.

So, he hadn't expected much luck without the ID to begin with. But he was having _no_ luck. The state was reluctant to allow him to dig through records that likely contained some pretty damning and embarrassing things, but in the face of federal investigation, they were grudgingly permissive.

It was the hospital administration that was the problem. They stubbornly insisted that they could not allow him or any other agent to go through records that could compromise patient privacy, nor could they allow him to contact any current or former staff without a hospital appointed patient representative there.

All in all, it was ridiculous. And they were getting away with it because the hospital administration itself was separate from the Virginia government, and as a separate corporate entity, was entitled to protection from federal investigation until they either got a warrant, subpoenaed the records, or the administration itself became part of the investigation. All because he didn't have an ID yet.

And they couldn't move for a warrant because the administration had a valid point. In court, at least.

Booth could respect patient privacy, but that was taking it a little too far. He wasn't going to pry into patient's treatments or their personal lives, he just wanted names, ages, and faces. There couldn't be too many children in inpatient psychiatric care.

He sighed. It was going to be a long wait until Bones and her team got an ID.

* * *

Angela was fine-tuning her facial reconstruction with a heavy heart. With a sorrowful sigh, she stepped back to look at her work. A sweet, heart shaped face with a small snubbed nose and large, almond shaped eyes smiled back at her. A child, innocent and happy.

Unconsciously, one hand dropped to her belly. Hodgins and her own baby; their child. Who was this girl- where were her parents? Were they worried, anxiously hoping and praying that their baby girl be returned to them- or were they the ones who had dumped her in the grave to begin with?

Angela preferred to believe the former until proven otherwise. All of the possibilities running through her head, Angela gazed soberly at the smiling, computer generated image.

She was still staring at it when Cam walked in.

Cam had just gotten the toxicology results back when she walked into Angela's office. She wanted to see how Angela's facial reconstruction was going. As she walked into Angela's area, file folder in hand, she saw Angela staring at the screen.

"Hey, Angela," Cam began, "How is the-" Cam stopped when she saw what Angela was staring at.

"Is that her?" Cam asked quietly. She stood next to her coworker, tucking the file folder under one arm as she crossed them.

"Yeah," Angela said, tapping her tablet to zoom in on the image. The sweet face smiled banally at them, as though unaware of her likely violent demise. "I was about to run the image through the missing persons database."

"Go ahead," Cam said, watching as Angela tapped the pad again to initiate the search. "While you're at it, check with the NCMEC and Amber Alert. If she was abducted, that could lead us to her identity."

"Sure thing," Angela replied, adding the other two databases to the search. As the computer processed, photos flickered rapidly across the screen.

As they watched the search run, Angela felt a sudden desire to protect the girl represented by the image on the screen. It was irrational, seeing as that girl was laid out on a slab on the main platform, but she felt it nonetheless.

"Is it bad that I hope this girl has a family?" Angela asked. "Considering that they're just going to be heartbroken?"

Cam looked at her critically. "No-" Cam sighed and looked back at the screen. "Having a family that's missing her means that someone cared about her. And if someone cared, that's better than a lot of children can say."

Angela mulled that over, looking back at her image. "I hate this. When they're young, I mean." She said, echoing what seemed to be the catchphrase of the day."

Cam nodded. "Me too," she said quietly, and Angela knew that she was thinking about Michelle, just like Angela was thinking of her own unborn baby.

The computer beeped, drawing both women out of their reflections. Discouragingly, _No Matches _was displayed in bold red text in the search results column.

"Well," Angela said, disappointed, "Both of those were the national databases; I can narrow the search parameters to individual state records. It will take awhile, though. And if that doesn't work, I can run a general facial match through the internet."

Cam was equally disappointed. "Good idea, Angela. Keep looking; let me know if you find anything."

Angela nodded. "Will do."

"Thanks, Angela." Cam said, heading to the door. "I'm going to go give this to Hodgins, I want him to take a look at the tox results."

"Why?" Angela asked, confused. Cam paused, turning back to face the artist.

"There was a high concentration of chemicals found in prescription sedatives and psychotropic drugs in the tox screen- not just one kind, but a whole pharmacy worth. I want Hodgins to see if he can get any specific medications or combinations of drugs from the tox results and the victim's metabolism. It could be cause of death."

"You haven't found cause of death yet?" Angela asked, surprised.

Cam shook her head. "The skull fracture to the parietal and temporal bones wasn't cause of death. The trauma from the blow wouldn't have been fatal for another two hours after time of death. After I give these to Hodgins, I have to finish the formal autopsy so Brennan can examine the bones." Cam paused, deliberating. "Angela, when you have time, would you mind looking into the investigation of Western Virginia State Hospital?"

"Sure; I'd be happy to," Angela replied. "Does this have something to do with the case?" she questioned.

Cam hesitated. "It might," she temporized. There was really no indication that the girl was a hospital patient at or before her death, but Cam had a nagging suspicion that the two integrally connected.

"Okay," Angela said evenly. "I'll be here if you need anything else."

"Thanks," Cam said, heading out the door to Hodgins' office.

Angela turned back to the screen, beginning the tedious task of searching each and every missing children's database, one state at a time- starting with D.C.

* * *

Wendell carried the plastic evidence box with the same care others would give to a priceless antique, or other valuable, fragile object. And in away, the scraps of cloth, paper, and metal in that box were just as valuable. Wendell didn't pretend that the case of the victim affected him as much as Booth, Angela, or any of the team with children of their own- but he still felt the same. Whenever the body on the autopsy slab was young, it was a tragedy. Whenever it was a child, it was heartbreaking for everyone.

And the box of scraps would be able to help them catch who killed her. Wendell doubted that it was anything but murder, either by design or by accident. Ten year old girls didn't end up in shallow graves because they slipped and fell down flights of stairs.

The door to Hodgins' lab hissed open.

"Hey, Hodgins," Wendell greeted. The entomologist was at the back of the lab, absorbed in a sample of bugs taken from the victim's remains. "I brought the evidence box."

Hodgins looked up, as Wendell set the box down. "Good," Hodgins said, getting up and coming over to sort through the contents. "The sooner we catch this guy, the better."

"Cam and Brennan haven't determined cause of death yet," Wendell pointed out. Hodgins shrugged. "You agree with me, though."

Wendell was quiet. "Yeah," He said finally. "Yeah, I do." Changing the topic, Wendell pointed out the bracelet. "The victim was wearing a plastic medical ID bracelet, but the printing was illegible. If we can read that, we might be able to get an ID."

"Ange hasn't finished her facial reconstruction?" Hodgins asked, surprised.

"No, she did, but both NCMEC and Amber Alert had nothing on the victim." Both men looked up, surprised, to see Cam standing in the doorway. She walked over to their table, heels clicking on the tile floor.

"Really?" Wendell questioned. "That's odd."

"It also means she was never reported as missing or abducted in the national level." Hodgins said, eyes narrowing as he mulled this over.

Cam nodded."Angela's searching through state databases for a match. If that doesn't work, she's going to try a general net photo search. Anyway, I came over to ask you to look at this."

She held out the file folder. Hodgins took it, flipping it open to the tox results. He frowned as he looked at the graph and accompanying report.

"Can you figure out which drugs these correspond too? The high levels say that they were ingested at least several hours prior to time of death, but I need to know which could be prescriptions and if any were overdoses or counterindicted."

"You think that this could be cause of death?" Hodgins asked shrewdly. When Cam gave him a look, he shrugged, setting the folder down. "I'll get on it."

"Please do," Cam said, a touch wryly, before she left, going back to the main platform to continue her formal autopsy.

"Going back to the ID bracelet, if we could get a name off of it, that would help Angela." Wendell said, redirecting the focus back to the physical evidence before them.

"Yeah," Hodgins said, putting on a fresh pair of gloves before picking up the green plastic bracelet. "Good thing I know how to do that, then." He grinned at Wendell.

Flattening the bracelet on a metal tray, Hodgins began going around the lab, assembling a strange collection of ingredients. Dish soap, lemon juice, and a small vial of hydrochloric acid, along with a paintbrush that looked suspiciously like one of Angela's

He grinned, filling a small dish with water, before putting in an equal amount of each ingredient.

"I used to do this as a kid." He said, dipping the brush in and mixing the liquid, before slowly painting the solution onto the faded and stained ID sticker. Wendell's eyes widened as dark markings began to appear on the paper- markings that formed into letters- blurry from water damage, but unmistakably legible.

"The hydrochloric acid reacts with the iron oxides in the ink, and makes them become visible again," Hodgins explained, grinning as he dumped the rest of the mixture in the chemical disposal container. "I did a chemistry project in high school about how to restore different types of inks based on their chemical compounds. Got an A."

"And we've got an ID." Wendell said, reading the label.

_Chrissa Black ADM: 2-21-11_  
_Dr. Horace Alistair 10 F_  
_DOB: 3-19-01 ID: 276894_

"So she was a hospital patient, like we thought," Hodgins mused, reading the information on the ID bracelet.

"I'll go let Angela know," Wendell said. He was straightening to go do so, when something among the pile of evidence caught his eye. Picking up the dirty, torn remnants of what looked like it had once been a pair of jeans, he fished a small, rectangular piece of cardstock out of the right pocket. Careful with the damaged paper, he gently eased it out without any damage.

It was the size of a business card, made of heavy cardstock. Now, it was badly warped by the water damage, and dirty from being buried, but the jeans had protected it more than the ID bracelet. Beneath the dirt stains, there was a faint gold glitter on one side, and several smudged, illegible black markings on the other.

"Hey, you found something?" Hodgins asked, seeing Wendell holding the card.

"Yeah," Wendell replied, flipping the card over, careful not to tear it. "It looks like we'll need your magic trick again," he said, passing the card to Hodgins, who took it gently. Then he briskly removed the plastic evidence gloves.

"Well, I'll go tell Angela about the ID. That should help her narrow down her search."

"Ok, Wendell. I'll let Cam know when I have any conclusions from the tox results."

"Sure." Wendell said, before heading out the door.

* * *

Back upstairs, in front of the Angelatron, Angela was steadily growing more and more frustrated. She was finished with both the Midwest and the Eastern Seaboard now, and still no results. It was as if the girl didn't exist- which couldn't be, seeing as her remains were laid out downstairs.

So when Wendell came in, it was a welcome chance to get away from the screen before she smashed it.

"Hey, Wendell,"

"Hi, Ange. Hodgins and I pulled an ID of the hospital bracelet," Wendell said, not wasting time.

Angela turned away from the screen. "Who?"

"Chrissa Black, born March nineteenth, two thousand."

"Ok, just let me put that in." Angela said, typing on her tablet. The computer immediately began humming as it processed the input. "I hope this helps. I haven't been able to find anything on this girl in Missing Persons at all."

"Well, she could be trafficked. Or she could never have been reported missing, or just never have been reported in the first place."

Angela blinked. "That's a good idea!"

"What is?" Wendell asked, confused.

"If she's recorded. Since we have her birthdate, I can check in the census to see if she shows up."

"What about foster care?" Wendell suggested.

"Good idea," Angela said, throwing him a glance. She was surprised that she hadn't thought of that- but then, it seemed like these days she never had less than three thousand thoughts swirling around in her head, vying for attention. "Got her!" Angela said triumphantly, as the girl's record popped up on the screen.

"And I've got this," Hodgins said, carrying one of the trays they used for examining evidence. On it, Wendell could see the business card he had found. He set the tray down on one of the tables. "I was hoping you would be able to tell me what this is."

"Well," Angela said, looking at the card. A dull gold border ran around the edge, and a eight pointed star made out of more gold lines was centered squarely in the middle. "It looks like a business card for a nightclub."

"Yeah- that's the front." Hodgins said. "I was wondering about this." He flipped the piece of cardstock over- to show the ink revealed by the chemical treatment. Except that this ink, while clearly writing, was utterly indecipherable.

* * *

**A/N: Dun, Dun, Duhnnnnnn! (See what I mean about too short?) Anyway-**

_**The forensics team have identified their victim at last! But why is she not officially missing? Why are the tox levels so high and varied? Is it murder, or just a covered up accident? And they have discovered some tantalizing clues- but where does the mysterious evidence point? What will Angela discover about the hospital? Who will Booth identify as a suspect? And why is the card unreadable?**_

**Find out next week (or possibly the week after! ;) in the next enthralling chapter of-**

_**The Flaw in the System! **_


	4. Ch 3: The Sisters in the Asylum

**I'm BAAAACK!  
Dear god, I'm sorry this took so long, loyal readers! First, I had to put this down for a week due to my anatomy midterm, which I passed did not fail****_(thank you great goddess of knowledge and wisdom for taking pity on me!)_**** and then I had to battle with computer trouble for another two weeks, forcing me to write on paper before typing the whole thing up when my computer was semi-functional once more. I can't believe it's been a month! Well, you know what they say: good things come to those who wait! **

**And so, I present to you the longest yet chapter of ****_The Flaw in the System_****. I hope you enjoy; I worked hard trying to sow some plot seeds without getting distracted by future events!**

_**Note: Welcome and Thanks to Tie Dye Pencils, Vicki219, susana69, frannie2345, ATWeston, Sherkate, Vanessaelyse, beautifulgreek523, Caroline's Bones - Dolphins, EowynGoldberry, chosenname, fritzebe, mbell185, aorangeinboston, Adelled, avaronaknight, Birdie22, The Chosen Dork, Flowerchild23, Lucypup12, and xxlisagalloverxx. Thanks for your fav and/or follow!**_

_**Caroline's Bones - Dolphin: Um- Wow. Glad you enjoy my writing that much- the fact that your were genuinely affected by it is one of the greatest compliments I can receive as an author. So many thanks! Be forewarned, though- more tragedy for our victim, Chrissa, up ahead!**_

_**fritzbe- Thanks! Sorry it took so long! **_

_**kataang0508- Muchas gracias! The secret of the card will be revealed shortly!**_

_**Wesley1501- Glad you enjoyed! Plus, ha ha ha, you got my joke! Love it!**_

_**aorangeinboston- Thank you for that! I actually did not know this; my focus is on pre-nursing this year, hopefully graduating on time with a bachelor's in nursing. Anthropology is a subject I find interesting, but I'm not aware of how the field of study is structured. So, again, thank you for the correction! I based the assumption that they were anthropology students off of several visits to various museum exhibits. Most of these were about bodies being found in historical areas of America- early settlers; colonial villages, etc. Most of these exhibits referenced anthropologists as the main researchers/people in charge. Obviously, such operations are more complicated than the museum presented!**_

_**Adelled-Thank you!**_

_**Flowerchild23- Thanks; here is more!**_

**_Disclaimer_****: I have tried to make the legal, forensic, and investigative procedures and things as accurate as possible, but I'm not a pathologist, federal agent, or a forensic scientist. I am a pre-nursing student who has had two and a half months of basic anatomy and knows how to run a decent internet search. Science and legal corrections will be gratefully accepted. ****_(ex: aorangeinboston up there!)_**

* * *

Angela blinked, staring at the card. The whole thing wasn't illegible; dominating the back of it was a word in script: _Citlali_. Underneath that was a street address presumably in DC: 1470 K St. NW. But squeezed up into the top right corner was at least a sentence worth's of indecipherable characters. The whole thing was signed in the bottom right corner with a calligraphic A.

"Wow." She said, taking it in. "That's- I have no idea. It's some kind of code, at least."

"Yeah," Wendell said, also coming over to stare at the card. "Hey, I've seen this script before."

"You have?" Hodgins said, with both surprise and disbelief.

"Yeah," Wendell said, pushing back from the table. "I know I have- I just can't remember where."

"Well, that's helpful," Hodgins retorted, sounding a bit more sarcastic than he probably meant too. Angela lifted one eyebrow in an expression of 'really?' Hodgins had the good grace to look embarrassed.

"Sorry Wendell," He apologized. "I know what you mean. I've seen this before! Recently, too! I just- can't place it."

"Well that makes three of us," Angela cut in, taking the tray over to one of her cameras in order to upload it to the Angelator. "This, though-" she said, taking the necessary pictures before beginning the upload "I know. Citlali is a nightclub in Foggy Bottom, near George Washington University." Finishing her upload, Angela brought up the webpage for said club.

"I'm going to give this and the ID to Cam; she should be able to give them to Booth."

"That reminds me, I should go help Dr. Saroyan with her autopsy. Dr. Brennan will be getting impatient for her bones." Wendell said, hurrying back out onto the main platform.

"I should go too." Hodgins said, walking over and giving Angela an affectionate kiss. "I have to finish with the Cam's toxicology results."

Angela smiled. "Okay, honey. Let me know if there's anything else."

Hodgins grinned at her as he walked out the door.

Angela smiled back, before turning to her screen and bringing up the decoding software, inputting the message from the card. She'd let that run while she let Cam know the ID.

* * *

"Hey Cam," Angela said, climbing the steps to the platform, where her boss was buried wrist deep in their current corpse. "We got an ID on the victim."

"Really?" Cam asked, coming over to inspect the screen as Angela pulled up her results. Angela nodded.

"Chrissa Black. Ten year old foster kid and inpatient at Western State Hospital." Cam's eyebrow shot up in surprise.

"She's a foster kid? How'd you figure that out?"

"Hodgins did some cool magic trick on the ID bracelet; we were able to retrieve the printing. The only database she registered in was the foster system. No missing persons, no record, nothing."

"Interesting. So someone didn't want people to know she was missing," Cam mused. "Were you able to pull hospital records?"

Angela shook her head. "Psychiatric records are private; you need a court order for those. Meaning we'll most likely need Booth for that."

Cam nodded. "I'm almost done with the formal autopsy; I'll let Booth know."

Angela nodded. "I'm going to go dig into the hospital like you asked; maybe I'll be able to find something on our victim." She turned to go back down the stairs- and paused. "Have you found cause of death yet?"

Cam shook her head. "No. There's no obvious fatal trauma anywhere; if Hodgins doesn't find any overdoses or counterindictions in the list of drugs she had in her system, I'm going to go with asphyxia."

"God." Angela said, not wanting to think about what that might mean. "She was smothered?"

Cam nodded soberly. "That's not all. There was significant superficial trauma to what's left of the pubic area and vaginal canal."

"God." Angela said again. "She was raped, too?"

"Probably. I'm going to swab for DNA, but it's unlikely I'll be able to find a large enough uncontaminated sample. He took precautions against DNA identification." Cam looked down at the body, shaking her head. "We really need to catch this guy."

"I agree." Cam and Angela both turned to see Hodgins coming to join them on the platform, another manila folder in his hands. "The mass spec finished with the tox results; and boy, this girl was seriously doped up." He handed Cam back the manila folder and went over to the computer, pulling up the results on the larger screen. "She had three different antipsychotics in her system, as well as two different sedatives. I couldn't find any clinical contraindications for the drugs themselves, but the amisulpride is counterindicted in children before the onset of puberty."

"Wow," Angela said, looking at the list of drugs on the screen.

"Yeah," Hodgins said. "I'll send it to Sweets to look over for any clinical uses I might have missed, but I don't think this would have killed her according to time of death. She should have been comatose, based on the effective half life of these drugs and her estimated metabolism, and even if she was awake, she would have been a living zombie."

"Huh. So the killer dopes her up, then suffocates her? How does that account for the head wound?" Angela questioned with a frown.

Hodgins shook his head and Cam sighed. "Let's hope the bones speak to Dr. Brennan."

At that moment, Wendell arrived on the platform as well. "Dr. Saroyan? Are you..."

"Yes, I'm done. Dr. Brennan can have her bones now." Wendell nodded, and began loading the bones into the container to be cleaned.

"Another interesting thing, though," Hodgins said, remembering, "The amount of hydroxyzine found in her system was not at the level it should have been. It was administered earlier."

"How much earlier?" Cam asked, eyes sharp as if the information would give them the answer to the case.

Hodgins shrugged. "Maybe a day or two at the most."

"So if we assume that based on the difference in concentration and half life, the hydroxyzine was regularly prescribed medication, we can assume she was admitted for psychosis. Then, right before her death, someone administers enough drugs not to kill her, rapes her, then smothers her, sometime during which she acquires a head wound." Cam said, alliterating the current scenario. She flipped the file closed. "Well, I'll send this to Booth. It looks like he and Sweets are taking another trip to crazy town."

* * *

It was a relief to finally get the ID from Cam; Booth hated having to sit around without any leads. The file had been sent over, and Booth had it, ready to hand over for Sweets to review. The fact that the three of them- Sweets, Bones, and himself- were all up for another two hour drive was a minor inconvenience to finally being able to do something on this case.

Once again, Booth was struck by the grimness of the building. He'd been forced to listen to Sweets' and Bones debate slash lecture on the hospital's history and architecture the whole ride up here, and one thing that had stuck in his mind was that the whole gothic fortress theme was meant to be an inspiring form of therapy for the patients living there. The huge monolith seemed more imposing than inspiring to him, though.

Inside, it was only marginally better. The foyer was a monument to shabby grandeur, but even though the cramped space was meant to be impressive, the relatively low ceiling and lack of ambient light instead made it oppressive. Like the entrance hall to grand prison, rather than a place to recover and heal. Two staircases jutted out into the main foyer, framing the hallway of offices behind them.

It was quiet. Very quiet; the kind of quiet that made you look over your shoulder and jump and small noises. All in all, Booth thought, it was creepy. Much creepier than the sanitarium they'd previously visited as part of a past case. Even Bones seemed to be a little on edge. So it was no surprise that they all flinched when a woman coughed, discreetly announcing herself.

She was dressed in office attire with the addition of a white lab coat, like a doctor wore, and her hair was twisted up into a no nonsense bun. She looked at them with some degree of confusion and uncertainty.

"Excuse me, but-"

Booth didn't give her much chance to continue. Pulling out his badge, he held it up. "I'm FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth, this is Dr. Sweets and my partner Dr. Temperance Brennan from the Jeffersonian. We're here to talk to Dr. Daniels about the body found on the grounds of his hospital?"

The girl flushed. She was young, Booth noted. Maybe a little younger than Sweets. "Of course; he's expecting you. Just go up the stairs and it's the third office on your right. You can't miss it; it's the only one in use up there."

"You can't show us?" Brennan asked, her tone a little disapproving. The woman flushed deeper, but her jaw clenched.

"I have a job to do, Dr. Brennan. This place may be closing down, but there are still patients here, and four other thousand things to do without wasting time playing tour guide. I'm fairly certain you don't need to be shown down ten feet of hallway. Now, if you'll excuse me." She turned, walking off down the corridor, toward a worried looking man in blue scrubs.

"She was rude." Brennan observed. Sweets opened his mouth to say something- before shaking his head and closing it. Booth gave him an understanding look. Bones could be singularly unobservant at times.

"Don't worry Bones, I'm sure she's just busy. Now let's go find Dr. Daniel's office."

The upstairs hallway was much like the foyer downstairs; a falling apart time capsule. Aside from the hideously ugly seventies era carpeting on the hall floor, the whitewashed walls and dark finished wooden doors would not have been out of place in a period drama. That was, if they weren't clearly in need of upkeep.

Most of the doors closed; the one open door showed a room stripped bare of everything but the paint and wooden paneling. Dr. Daniel's office was easy to find; the irritable woman had been right about that. One of the double doors was standing slightly ajar; indicating that someone was inside, presumably the doctor.

Booth knocked once before opening the door. Again, the period drama theme held sway; the floor was hardwood, there was wood paneling, and most of the furniture looked antiquated. A couple of large windows gave a sweeping view of the rain drenched property surrounding the building; the only truly modern things in the room were the computer on the larger corner desk and the phone next to it.

As they walked in, the man seated at the desk looked up from the monitor screen. "Agent Booth, I assume?" He asked, standing up. "I'm Dr. Arthur Daniels; we spoke earlier." Booth nodded, disliking the other man's immediate attempt to direct the conversation. Booth preferred to be the one in charge in interviews; and Dr. Daniels' usurping of that didn't sit right with him. He didn't let that show, however.

"This is my partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan of the Jeffersonian, and Dr. Lance Sweets with the FBI. We need to ask you about a patient of yours: ten year old girl named Chrissa Black?"

"And we need her medical records," Sweets said, stepping forward. "Particularly the ones pertinent to her diagnoses and drug therapy."

"And don't bother with the patient privacy excuse; Chrissa Black was a foster child under state care at her time of death. The FBI has full access rights." Booth continued, letting out a little of his prior frustration with the hospital.

Dr. Daniels sighed. "Well. You may as well take a seat," He said, moving over to one of the two couches.

"We'll stand, thanks," Booth replied, not moving an inch. "Now, the records?"

Dr. Daniels' expression was now a mix of resignation and annoyance. "I'm afraid I don't personally have them; like everything else in this building, our computer system is falling apart at the seems. We've had several crashes in the past few months alone; for the records, I'm afraid you're going to have to dig in the archive for a paper copy, or wait until a computer tech can retrieve them." Booth glanced at Sweets, who nodded.

"Excuse me, Dr. Daniels, but where are the archives, so I can get the file?"

Daniels looked even more annoyed at being interrupted. "Down the stairs, at the end of the hall beyond the foyer. Some of the student volunteers should be able to help you find what you're looking for."

Sweets nodded curtly and left, while Daniels picked up his tirade where he left off.

"And, as I was about to say, computer failure aside, this hospital had at least a thousand patients at one time, Agent Booth, and at least as many staff. I'm the hospital director; I don't keep track of them all, and I couldn't even if I tried. The name Chrissa Black means nothing to me."

"And does the death of Rebecca Anderson mean anything to you?" Brennan said sharply, suddenly speaking up. "Because clearly it meant something to the state health department."

Daniels sighed and deflated. "Rebecca Anderson's death should never have happened. We've had incidents in the past, but never anything like that. The worst problem we had was short staffing and lack of sufficient funding. It resulted in incidents, but never any deaths. I should have been more involved with the staff, but at the time... I was trying to keep this facility afloat. People depend on this place... or they did," He added bitterly. "Look what my effort caused."

Brennan and Booth exchanged a look; Brennan's one of inquiry. Booth shook his head slightly. Sweet's he was not, but Daniels wasn't lying. Neither Booth nor Brennan could understand the director's apathy towards the day to day patients and staff of his hospital, but they could understand how the running of such a huge facilty could become overwhelming.

"Well," Booth said, getting the interview back on track, "Do you know anyone who would know anything of relevance?" He couldn't help the sarcastic edge that crept into the question.

Daniels paused. "Most of our staff is gone now; there were never that many to begin with, especially not in the pediatric department. Most of the doctors were completing residency requirements, but I believe several former pediatric nurses are still on staff."

_Well, that's convenient, _Booth thought sarcastically before he nodded. "We're gonna need to talk to them. And we're gonna need Chrissa's belongings."

Daniels nodded wearily. "Her name is Kelly Rochester; she should be getting off shift in fifteen minutes. She can help you with Chrissa's effects."

* * *

After nearly an hour of wrestling with a code that was both infuriatingly familiar and frustratingly resistant to decryption, Angela was quite ready for a break. Staring at the screen of the Angelatron and wracking her pregnancy hormone flooded brain for a seemingly nonexistent solution was beginning to give her a migraine.

Stepping away from the screen before it _did _give her a migrane and render her out of commission for the rest of the day, she decided to lay down on the couch and read. Glancing at the small three book pile by the couch, she decided against reading one of the two pregnancy volumes. She'd had enough pregnancy advice for a while.

That left the third book, one she was apparently in the process of reading if the red paper bookmark was anything to go by. She picked it up- and nearly groaned. The book was _The Da Vinci Code. _

_"_Just what I need right now," Angela muttered. "The irony of reading a book about solving codes when I can't solve one."

Still, though, because the other option was alternately alarmist and crushingly boring pregnancy books, she opened to the bookmarked page 320 and began to read.

Angela had read _Da Vinci Code_ before, so the text was comfortably familiar. Familiar enough, in fact, that she was doing more of an in-depth skim of the text than actually reading it. The last two pages of chapter 70 went by quickly. She turned to page 323, the first page of chapter 71- and shot up into a sitting postion, nearly dropping the book.

There was the code they had been trying for hours to solve, printed right on the page before her!

_Of Course!_" Angela exclaimed, clutching the book as she pushed herself to her feet. She stared at it wonderingly, incredulous that she -that _they_\- had missed such a simple code.

Hodgins picked that moment to walk in. He had come over to check on how his wife was doing, knowing that the code breaking wasn't going well, only to find an inexplicably exited Angela.

"What? What's happened?!" He asked, unsure what was going on.

"Honey, I broke the code! Look!" Angela said, grinning, as she thrust the copy of _Da Vinci Code_ into her poor confused husband's hands. Hodgins looked down at the book, more confused than ever.

"You translated the message with _The Da Vinci Code_?" He asked doubtfully, unsure if he was interpreting correctly.

Angela nodded, a little deflated by her husband's confusion. "Turn to page three twenty three."

Hodgins did so- and looked up at Angela in amazement. "Oh my god."

Angela nodded, grinning again. "I know. That's how we've all seen it! We've all been to the Da Vinci exhibition at the National Art Gallery at least once this month..."

Hodgins' eyes were wide, the book dangling forgotten in his hand. "That's why none of us could solve the code! The 'code' isn't a code at all, it's _mirror script_!"

* * *

Sweets had managed to return quickly enough to join them in meeting their guide, thick manila folder in hand.

Kelly Rochester turned out to be a willowy, red headed twenty something with a brusque no nonsense attitude and the kind of confidence that came from experience. She wasn't happy about being delayed from going home, but as soon as Booth mentioned Chrissa, her attitude changed. She wouldn't say much as she lead them down to the now empty pediatrics ward, but her body language became much less hostile.

The abandoned ward was depressing to the extreme. It was small: only one floor; with two four bed units, several two bed rooms, four individual rooms, and one common area. Despite the addition of colorful paintings and sunny yellow walls, the ward exuded sadness and desperation. It was like all of the kids that had been treated there had lost hope and left that feeling behind.

Kelly lead them to a room directly on the left. It was an individual room; one that had barely been touched since the resident left. All that had been done was to strip the sheets and bedding; everything else was untouched. Several surprisingly well done crayon drawings were still taped up on the wall over the now bare mattress, a worn looking stuffed panda was settled in a corner like it had just been tossed there. It was an eerie scene, made even more so by the room's stark and chilly impersonality, despite the few personal items.

"This was Chrissa's room; Aly and Rebecca's room was just across the hall." Kelly said, propping the door open for them. Sweets and Brennan took a few steps in, exploring. Booth remained in the hall- the tiny room quickly became cramped, even with only two. "The sheets are gone, but no one wanted her stuff and they haven't come to collect the furniture yet, so everything else is pretty much the same."

"I'm sorry- Aly and Rebecca?" Booth questioned. The names were unfamiliar; but any information could be a help in this case. Kelly flushed, drawing back in surprise and slight embarrassment.

"Oh, sorry!" The nurse was clearly angry with herself. "You're investigating Chrissa so I just thought- I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned it. Besides, if Chrissa is..." she paused awkwardly. "Well, there's no way Aly could have been involved with that."

"Why?" Booth asked, now intent on the new information. The nurse shook her head, uncomfortable. "I can't talk about patients, I'm sorry. I could lose my job."

"Well you're about to lose your job anyway," Brennan pointed out from the doorway, looking up from her examination of one of the drawings. Booth shot her a disapproving look that clearly said she wasn't helping.

Kelly, though, didn't seem to be offended. "Not this job, the one at the private facility Dr. Daniels is moving too. They have a well respected pediatric program; they gave me the job on his reference. If it comes out that I've compromised patient privacy, not only would I lose that job, I wouldn't be hired anywhere else."

There was awkward silence for a moment.

It was Booth that broke it.

"Well, I'm gonna go call the team to come get this stuff; they might be able use it to tell us something." Taking out his cell, he surreptitiously motioned for Sweets to interview the nurse.

Sweets caught the instruction; leaving the room, he walked over to Kelly.

"Ms. Rochester..."

"Kelly." She corrected him stonily as she crossed her arms over her chest, back to the brusque attitude of before.

"Kelly." Sweets acknowledged. "I'm a psychologist, I understand the need to protect patient privacy, and I understand how important keeping your new job is. But we need to know anything you can tell us about Chrissa Black. We have authorization to her medical and treatment records, we know she was pretty young to be in here at all, let alone for so long."

He paused for a second to take in the nurse's reaction. She was less than impressed.

"Look, anything you can tell us would be a help. And I can promise that we'll keep your name out of this case if at all possible, or until we have legal jurisdiction to the other girl's records," he added desperately, hoping Booth wouldn't kill him for promising something they might not be able to deliver.

Thankfully though, it worked. Kelly's posture softened, and she sighed heavily.

"Alright." she said wearily. "Alright. But don't stop me in the middle of this, because I don't want to have to say this five times."

"I started working here about a year ago. Most of our peds were state and foster kids with big issues; depression, suicidal, you get the drift." Sweets nodded in understanding.

"A lot of them ended up staying here for months, trying to get another placement. We tried to make the situation better, but... this is still a psych ward, not a home. A lot of our patients ended up pretty isolated. But Chrissa, Alyson, and Rebecca; they became friends in the unit." Kelly smiled slightly, remembering.

"Were they close?" Sweets asked, forgetting to remain silent. Kelly snorted slightly at his question.

"They were practically inseparable; if we didn't have their records to tell us different, they could have passed for sisters, they were so close! During social hours, they were always near each other. A lot of times we'd find them in each other's rooms during the night, too. It wasn't supposed to happen... but we tried to turn a blind eye as much as possible, because they all had a really positive effect on one another. After Rebecca's death, we were worried about Alyson for a long time."

"Wait... Rebecca _died_? She's _that_ Rebecca?" Sweets asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Kelly said, sounding slightly surprised. "The one started the investigation that closed this place." She gestured vaguely at the walls of the corridor. "But anyway, after the accident, Alyson had us worried. She didn't act violent or anything; Aly was never violent, but she was colder. Really suspicious, distrusting; she was standoffish at the best of times. Complete one eighty from before; I mean, before she wasn't super social or anything, and she could be a handful when she wanted, but she was polite and cooperative for the most part." Kelly shook her head. "It was dramatic, how much she changed."

"Um- wow." To say Sweets was surprised was a massive understatement. "But how did Chrissa fit into this group?"

Kelly shrugged, recrossing her arms. "Chrissa was the youngest; the other two always looked out for her. It was kind of cute in a weird way; Rebecca was here first. She adopted Aly when she arrived, and when Chrissa was admitted about a week after that, Aly adopted Chrissa."

"Aly is Alyson, right?" Sweets questioned for clarification.

Kelly nodded. "She insisted on being called that. Really, though, from what I saw, Aly was the heart of their group. I doubt Rebecca would have noticed Chrissa if Aly hadn't, or hadn't been a patient."

"So Chrissa was close to Aly, for the most part?"

Kelly nodded again, with a small, wistful smile. "Chrissa was probably the most difficult, case wise; but I can't remember all the times Aly helped us with by getting her to take her meds willingly or go to therapy when she wanted to play. Chrissa eventually got to be good friends with Rebecca, but Aly was the one who was always there for her. Especially after Rebecca's accident." She added pensively.

"What? How did things change?" Sweets asked, now totally engrossed in the story that Kelly was telling.

Kelly shook her head and shrugged. "Overnight, she became Chrissa's virtual bodyguard. Anytime she or Chrissa weren't in therapy or treatment, she was close by. Aly practically mothered her after Rebecca died."

* * *

While Sweets was persuading and interviewing their new nursing friend, Booth dialed Cam's number. She picked up immediately, something that surprised him. Not that Cam ignored her phone or required multiple calls, but answering on the first ring was new.

"Hey, Cam," Booth greeted before getting right down to business. "It looks like we've got some evidence; can you get Hodgins and a team out here?"

"Sure thing, Booth, but I was just about to call you because we've got evidence of our own." Cam replied.

"Yeah?" Booth inquired, glancing down the hall to see Sweets now deep in conversation with Kelly. "What is it?"

"You know the card Wendell found on the victim? The one from the nightclub in Foggy Bottom?"

"Yeah, the one with the coded message?"

"Angela solved the code. It wasn't a code at all, it was mirror writing."

"As in, like what Da Vinci used to keep his stuff secret?"

"Yep, that's the one," Cam answered. Booth was momentarily floored. He had known they would crack the code eventually, but mirror script was a completely unexpected twist.

"Well? What did it say?"

* * *

Sweets was struggling to process the entirely new onslaught of connections and information about their victim. Not only had she been a young psychiatric patient, she had been close friends with two other young female psych patients- another of whom was apparently also dead. It wasn't wise to jump to conclusions, but two girls dead, both closely connected to another girl with mental health issues... there was an inevitably imaginable scenario there.

Careful to keep his expression neutral, Sweets did a quick evaluation of Kelly. She was honest, and even though she'd been resistant to talk, she'd done so for the right reasons. Namely, protecting her patients and her livelihood.

"Do you know who we could contact to talk to Aly?" He asked carefully, judging the nurse's reaction. Kelly looked confused.

"No... I wouldn't know. Her most likely locations would be listed in her record in the foster care database. I didn't get that sort of information."

"So she was a foster child. But wouldn't there be documentation of her release stating where she was released to?" Sweets probed, not sure what Kelly meant.

"Well, yes," The nurse said, biting her lower lip for a moment. "But Aly wasn't released. She disappeared."

_Okay_... Sweets didn't want to imagine this new scenario, but unfortunately that's where the evidence was pointing to. Three girls are institutionalized and become friends. Except one girl succumbs to her problems and kills the other two, whether by accident or design. Sweets couldn't believe in that scenario, but due process and responsible crime solving required that they follow the most likely possibilities until evidence pointed otherwise, even while keeping an open mind.

"Well," Sweets said a little awkwardly, "Thank you for your time. Is it alright if we contact you at home for further information?"

"Wha-? Oh, yeah, sure," Kelly said, distracted by something. Grabbing a pen and scrap of paper from the pocket of her scrubs, she scribbled down a name, address, and phone number before handing the paper to Sweets. "Just remember, keep my name out of this."

Sweets nodded, with a small smile, putting the information in his pocket and turning to walk away. But, suddenly, Kelly stopped him.

"Hey, um- Dr. Sweets? If it's alright to ask, where did Chrissa die?" Kelly asked hesitantly. "Because..."

"We believe somewhere on the grounds. That's all I'm able to say."

Kelly clapped a hand to her mouth in shock. "That's not possible. Not possible!"

Sweets could understand the woman's reaction. Realizing someone you had cared for had died where they were supposed to be safe couldn't be easy; far from it.

"Ms. Roch-Kelly; I know it's a shock, but-"

Kelly shook her head emphatically, cutting him off. "No, you don't understand! Chrissa was released back to a group home in D.C three days after Aly disappeared. She wasn't supposed to be anywhere near this hospital."

* * *

Cam was just about to answer when Booth saw Sweets striding towards him with a determined and fixed look.

"Hey, can you hang on a sec, Cam?" Booth asked, before turning to Sweets.

"What'd you find out?" Booth asked.

Sweet's explanation was curt, his voice tight. "Chrissa Black was friends with two other girls who were patients here in the same unit at the same time. One was Rebecca Anderson."

"The girl who died in the accident," Booth said.

Sweets nodded. "She was the oldest. But they were both friends with another girl; Alyson, called Aly. She was another foster child; disappeared three days before Chrissa Black was discharged."

"So this girl Aly is our suspect… wait, did you say Chrissa was _discharged_?" Booth said, realizing what Sweets had said and wondering if he had heard him correctly.

But Sweets nodded again. "Yep; she was discharged to a group home in DC three days after Alyson went AWOL."

Booth was stunned for a moment, trying to process the new and confusing information, before Cam's slightly irritated voice on his cell phone called him back to attention.

"Yeah, Cam, I'm still here. What did the code say?"

"Angela cracked the code?" Sweets asked in surprise, but Booth ignored him. Brennan, finished with her examination of Chrissa's room, quietly walked over to their group. Kelly followed, though the nurse kept a polite distance away from the FBI agent's call.

"It was directions. Or a set of instructions, more specifically. 'MacPhearson Square Station. Use service door; say I sent you.' And then, underlined, 'Ask for Addie'."

"Definitely instructions."Booth agreed. "MacPhearson Square Station, that's in Foggy Bottom."

"Only a couple blocks away from the nightclub on the card." Cam agreed. "Someone was telling our victim how to get there. And the message, it's signed."

"Let me take a wild guess," Booth said, pressing the cell phone to his ear. "It was signed 'Aly'."

* * *

**A/N: Bam! ;)**

_**Some questions have been answered. But more have been uncovered. Chrissa's past in unfolding- but what really happened the night she died? Why was she discharged- but doped up beyond comprehension when she died? And we've discovered the three girl sisterhood of the pediatric ward, but the only surviving member- and our only suspect thus far- is vanished! Who is Aly? Who is Addie? What really happened to Rebecca?**_

_**And is Aly really her adopted sisters' killer?!**_

**Tune in next week (weather, homework, and technologically permitting!;) for another exiting installment of -**

_**The Flaw in the System!**_


	5. Ch 4: The History of the Suspect

_**ITS ALIVEEE! Seriously though, sorry for ditching you guys. Transferring colleges and moving back across the country AGAIN is not fun! But I'm back now, and I have nothing to do but write and practice for my CNA exam. Sooooo, that means minimal disappearing from now on! ;-) **_

_**This chapter is nearly 10,000 words and 18 pages long, btw. (Both not including the A/N). Hope that helps make up for the long absence. **_

_**Also, I have some questions for you guys. First of all, I've been keeping a Pinterest board for this story- would any of you be interested in me providing a link, or have some of you come across it already? Second, I've been toying around with the idea of beginning to choose quotes and/or songs for each chapter. I've been coming across a lot of other authors doing it and rather liked it myself. What's your guys take- yes, no, maybe so? Just answer in a review or a PM (I would prefer the PMs though- save reviews for story comments/questions).**_

_**Welcome to the new readers I have gained these past months: TheGirlOfCrazyLand, nbop, silent-raven98, hungergamespettalover, Melony Prime, SeverusSnapes'sLove, Times eternal servant, Cerea ShatterField, blackcat711, Bookworm4629, RiverSong98, Hufflepuff Hex, grim assassin sherlock101, Lizi Rose, Gubloidmaniacc, hadrianlopex1, Tiniii25, , Wonderland-fae, , AlltimeFictionReader, kimvoik, livvixx, Yuriko-Rurinia, tembp, coterie2, SkittlezRAWR, BrySt1, EllieMarieG, EleKat, DarkEnigma322, animexchick, .5, DixieStark, MstgSzy, , SnowKi, snufleuflegus, gingergryffindor, and WishfulThinking012094. **_

_**Special Thanks and Replies to my Lovely Reviewers (seriously, I love you guys): **_

_**Caroline's Bones - Dolphins: You're Welcome. There will be further delving into dark depths with Aly once B&amp;B find her and Sweets does his shrinky stuff, but this is a little lighter, I think. And the only way out of darkness and into the light is to face it and move forward, as our absent heroine may yet discover. **_

_**Wesley1501- Sorry to keep you waiting...hope this helps!**_

_**kataang0508- *blush. Thank you; I aim to please!**_

_**Gubloidmaniac- Thank you! Here it is, at last!**_

_**SeverusSnapes'sLove - *more blushing. Thank you! ;-)**_

_**SnowKi - Well, here is more. 18 pages more...**_

_**Reviews are Love!**_

* * *

While they waited for the forensics team to arrive, Booth was kept busy making calls. First, to the Jeffersonian and Angela to both give them a heads up and ask Angela to start digging for anything they could use to find their missing POI. Then to the FBI, to get a BOLO put out for the description of Aly they had. Not that Booth thought it would do much good. Anyone who was smart enough to escape from a high security mental hospital while it was under the scrutiny of investigation was more than smart enough to avoid being caught by a BOLO. But stranger and more fortuitous things had happened.

Even so, it was a tense ride back to DC after the forensics team finally arrived and began bagging the girls' things. Even when they stopped for a quick bite on the way back home, there was none of the conversation from before. None of them were upset with the other, but the implications of the new information had everyone on edge. The idea of one kid leading other kids into what were ultimately their deaths did not sit particularly well with anyone.

* * *

Angela had gotten Booth's request through Cam; now she was following it. And, if anything, it was trickier than finding Chrissa's file had been. Chrissa's file had been hard to find because she had been looking in all of the wrong places. Aly's file seemed easy enough to find at first. A quick search through the foster system records and there she was.

Except that she wasn't.

When Angela clicked on the file link, it redirected her to the Virginia state system. The Virginia system then redirected her to the DC database, and then back to the Virginia system. Which was odd, although the file link now worked. Angela downloaded the file, before pausing, her mouse icon hovering over the close button. Something felt- off about this.

Deciding to follow a hunch, Angela began digging into the coding of the database. What she found was surprising. At first, she thought that the Virginia database might be a fraudulent copy of the original, but that was quickly proven false. This was the original database- what was off was that someone had coded and installed a program that piggybacked on the server's internet connection. And they had run their original IP Address through a series of technical gymnastics that prevented her from finding it out directly with any reliable accuracy.

Fishy. Very fishy. Angela's hunch was officially confirmed. Someone smart and with a lot of computer knowledge had done this.

The implications were startling. Someone had hacked into a government database, buried Alyson Tanner's file and put a tracing program on it- probably for the IP addresses of all of the computers that tried to access the file- all without getting caught. Granted, it wasn't a perfect job, but this person was both very, very good- enough to hack a government database undetected- and very, very smart, enough to know to hide their IP address and how to do it.

And all of this meant that someone was tracking who accessed Aly Tanner's file- and making sure that whoever did wouldn't know what they were doing. More than slightly suspicious. Angela _could_ track down the IP address of the original computer, and she _would_, eventually, but that would take time. And right now, since both Booth and their investigation needed something to go on, Angela's focus was on the file she'd just downloaded.

Primarily, on the identification photo.

Some time ago Angela had come to the conclusion that the majority of the people in the cases the Jeffersonian handled were average if anything; in appearance most of all. Very few of them were people you would pick out of a crowd or look twice at without cause.

With large green eyes, refined nose, light blonde-brown hair, pretty smile, and an expressive heart shaped face that was vaguely familiar, Aly was certainly the exception to that particular rule. And not just because she was pretty: there was something in her equally expressive eyes that hinted at more than prettiness... a hint of mischievous humor, maybe?

"Or maybe you're just so starving for art that you're reading _way_ too much into this girl's id photo," Angela muttered reprovingly to herself. Still, she was certain enough to bet her art supplies that there was something else to that photo other than a generic smile and average prettiness. And it was certainly odd; how the facial structure tugged at her memory with a strange familiarity.

_There's more to me than you might think; _those eyes seemed to challenge. Angela suppressed an involuntary shiver and got back to work.

* * *

Booth made a quick stop at the FBI headquarters both to drop off Sweets and to check and see if the BOLO had any hits yet –which, unsurprisingly, it didn't- and then he and Bones drove the few more miles to the Jeffersonian. Almost immediately Brennan went off to put on her lab coat and pour over the newly cleaned bones, while Booth had his own business to attend to.

Quietly, he made his way to Angela's office.

The artist was staring at the computer screen when he knocked on the door frame; the display showed what appeared to be the girl's file and several other official looking documents. Hearing his knock, Angela turned to look over her shoulder.

"Oh, hey Booth." Angela greeted, pulling up several more documents onto the computer screen.

"Hey, Ange. Whatcha got?"

Angela sighed. "A lot."

Booth nodded once. "Okay. Anything on our victim that might help?"

Angela shook her head. "Chrissa Black was the daughter of an impoverished addict; no father listed on the birth certificate. Record says she was placed in foster care by social services when she was six, after a police officer found her wandering around the streets during school hours. Various foster families; nothing that really stuck, until she started seeing things and was sent to the hospital with indeterminate early onset psychosis. No one to contact; the mother OD'd a couple years ago."

She went back over to the computer screen.

"Now _this_ is what I meant by a lot," Angela said, pulling up an enlarged ID photo.

"This is our girl?" Booth asked, looking the image over.

"Yep," Angela confirmed. "Alyson Nikiya Tanner. Fourteen years old last week; she's been in foster care for about three years and was admitted to Western State Hospital last December."

"She looks older than fourteen," Booth commented; Angela silently agreed. Despite her youthful features, the bags under her challenging eyes gave her a weary, tired look. "But what else? Any friends or caretakers we can contact?"

"Not many," Angela said, bringing up the girl's history. "Only child; mother signed over parental rights a month after she was born and ended all contact, father died in a car accident when she was nine. Moved in with her grandmother until she died when she was ten; a friend's family took care of her for a couple months before the foster system put her with a newlywed couple before _they_ gave her up after several months due to marital issues."

"Doesn't seem anyone wants to keep this girl around much." Booth said with a touch of sardonic irony. Angela gave him a _look_ before continuing.

"The next family already had six foster children; she was their seventh. She stayed with them for almost two years before being transferred to a group home after one of her foster brothers was killed by stray fire in a drive by shooting; it hints that there were indications of long term abuse and neglect." Angela now brought up a police report.

"One of the other foster children ran away after the boy was killed; it seems like Aly was close to both of them. Another thing…"

Angela pressed a few keys on her touch pad. "Aly was sent to Western State directly from the group home; one of the younger kids saw her cutting herself in the bathroom."

"Damn. Kid's had a rough break." Booth was no longer sarcastic; instead totally serious.

Angela nodded. "Now, the records from the hospital are all paper and confidential, those are what Sweets is looking over, so I can't tell you what happened there. But I can tell you that she ran away from the home about five times; the longest she was out of the system was a month before she was returned, and each of those times was because she was spotted by various people who recognized her. None of the police who found her ever discovered where she was staying, but she was always picked up within a two mile radius of K Street and MacPhearson Square Station."

"That's the same area as the club address." Booth noted.

Angela nodded. "There was a speculation in her file that she was staying with her former foster sister- the one who ran away. They couldn't prove anything, but her name and address were listed as a possible person of contact."

That was enough for Booth. "Who?"

"Adelaide Lewis," Angela answered promptly, now displaying a DMV photo of a fine featured face surrounded by a halo of shoulder length brown curls and wearing a somber expression.

"Wait a minute, I thought the sister ran away; she wouldn't have a permanent address to write down, much less a driver's license."

"That's what I was thinking," Angela agreed, "So I looked some more. Once she turned eighteen, the sister resurfaced. No job history that I could find; her file stops when she ran away, so for three years, this girl didn't officially do anything. The one thing I did find, though, is that she was picked up for solicitation at one point, but never charged or prosecuted, and the arrest was taken off her record."

"So she became a hooker, and someone arrested her without proof."

"Most likely." Angela agreed. "But if she is and it wasn't a onetime thing or an accidental arrest, she's been very careful since then. And I'd say she's definitely beyond your average street walker. The address is for a two bedroom apartment near DuPont Circle- about three quarters of a mile from K Street, half a mile from the University and definitely not cheap."

Angela turned slightly to look squarely at Booth. "You know, Addie is a nickname for Adelaide. If I were you, I'd go talk to Adelaide Lewis and see what connection she has to this club, and if Aly is involved."

Booth nodded again, this time in agreement. "Yeah. Call me if you find anything, Ange,"

"Sure," Angela said, before Booth was out the door and she turned back to the computer screen.

* * *

Booth knew better than to disturb Bones when she was at work, so it was back to the FBI to pick up Sweets and update the BOLO with a more complete description of their suspect. Sweets was in his office, absorbed in the files they had brought back from their foray at the hospital. So absorbed; in fact, that Booth had to knock three times before he looked up.

"Wha- oh, hey Booth." The young psychologist said, putting aside the papers he had been rifling through. Two files to be specific, Booth noted.

"You have something?" He asked. Sweets nodded.

"I might. I was looking at a list of prescribed medications in the victim's medical records and-"

"Tell me in the car," Booth interrupted, hustling the other agent out of his office and down the hall towards the elevators.

"Why, where are we going?"

"To go talk to a call girl." Booth replied as he pushed the button for the ground level, and got a small feeling of amusement at the look of slightly shocked confusion on Sweets' face.

* * *

"…So I was comparing the medications listed in the victim's medical file to the tox screen results; the dosages Chrissa was given before her death were inconsistent with the prescriptions issued by her primary psychiatrist. Normally, the use of those medications is avoided in children, but Chrissa's psychosis was noted as being difficult to treat effectively in her file. The use of the drugs isn't what stands out to me, it's the inconsistency."

"Why?" Booth asked, listening to Sweets' explanation and analysis of the victim's records as he drove through the upscale DC streets, looking for the correct one.

"All of these metabolize relatively quickly for psychoactive drugs. The effective period is fairly short- while the drug is detectable for long periods of time, the effectiveness is maybe half a day at most. The levels in the tox screen would not be consistent with a child's dose- or one administered at a regular time of meds distribution. Also-" Sweets said, shuffling the file around, "Chrissa was not prescribed any regular sedatives or tranquilizers. The fact that such a large dose of two different drugs was found-" He shrugged.

"Someone drugged her," Booth filled in. "And they tried to cover it up."

"Maybe," Sweets agreed. "Although it could have been that she had a violent psychotic episode, necessitating those drugs-"

"Isn't stuffing kids full of tranquilizers the sort of thing you get your license revoked for?" Booth pointed out. "And you said yourself she wasn't prescribed those regularly. That should have made the necessary dose lower, right?"

"Yeah," Sweets mumbled, staring ahead out the window. "I just don't want to think that a psychiatrist could…" he trailed off.

"Neither do I," Booth muttered, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. Being in therapy, letting someone else into your mind and being forced to trust them with your innermost secret thoughts had been bad enough. The idea of anyone abusing that was downright terrifying.

Seeing the street of Adelaide Lewis's address, Booth turned off the main road and parked in front of the building. It was certainly fancy; with late afternoon sunlight making the cream stone façade glow, setting off an abundance of lush, landscaped greenery and trees in front and around the sides. The whole place gave off a sort of 1930's vibe mixed with an air of exclusivity and history. It was the sort of place that required either a significant cash flow or a hefty checking account; not the sort of place you looked for call girls with connections to murder suspects.

The front area matched the exterior; Sweets noted the luxurious looking leather sofas and chairs, along with a large fireplace and rugs on the patterned tile floor. Even the elevators matched the theme.

"So what's this person's name?"

"Adelaide Lewis," Booth informed him, pushing the button for the fourth floor. "She's Alyson Tanner's foster sister; went off the grid for three years after running away. She was listed as a possible contact in Aly's foster care file. Angela thinks she's probably a call girl."

"High end call girl by the looks of this place," Sweets commented as the elevator doors closed. "I should take a look at Aly's file when we get back; I might be able to figure out what her moves will be based on her history."

Booth nodded. "Angela had it sent over just after we left, so it'll be waiting for you when we get back."

"Uh-okay," Sweets said as the elevator doors dinged open. "Thanks, I guess."

The pair stepped out into the hall.

"We're looking for apartment 4D." Booth stated, peering down on either side of white painted walls.

"Well, 4A is over there, and 4C is just around the corner, so 4D is probably at the end of the hall," Sweets noted.

They found the apartment quickly; at the very end of the hall. Sounds of music and something being dragged spilled out from under the door, along with a muffled voice. Booth knocked firmly, rapping the door three times.

There was no answer.

Booth knocked again, louder and more insistently.

"Alright, alright; keep your head on!" A female voice yelled in response from inside the apartment. "I'll be there in a minute!"

There were several loud thuds from behind the door, and then a few seconds before the door was flung open.

"What?!" The occupant of the room demanded from the doorway, before she really _looked_ at her visitors and her expression turned to slight confusion and embarrassment. She coughed slightly.

"Um, excuse me…can I help you?"

"Yes, actually," Booth began, pulling out his badge. "I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth and this is Dr. Lance Sweets…"

With Booth handling the customary introduction, Sweets took the chance to get a subtle look at their current POI. She didn't really look anything like a hooker. In fact, dressed in yoga pants and an oversized cutout sweatshirt, hair up in a messy arrangement on top of her head, no makeup, and barefoot, she looked more like a young stay-at-home mom or a broke college student. Her appearance was entirely out of keeping with the luxury of her surroundings- or her supposed profession.

"…May we come in?" Booth finished.

Adelaide's eyes narrowed slightly as she bit her lip; she chewed it for a few moments. Oddly, while she thought, her free hand unconsciously reached up to brush across her abdomen protectively. She seemed to realize the action and dropped her hand before nodding.

"Ok." She pulled the door open wider to let them both into the apartment. "I don't know what you think you're going to find, but feel free to come and invade my home for the third time. It's not like I'm a person with a life of my own or anything." Her words were for the most part inoffensive, but there was an undercurrent of hostility in them.

"I'm getting really tired of the cops coming to the door, accusations at the ready," Addie muttered under her breath as she turned back into the apartment. Sweets got the feeling she meant them to hear her.

She led them through the door into a combined kitchen/dining/living room filled with the afternoon sunlight, pouring through the windows like warm honey. A comfortable looking couch and armchair were settled under the windows in the far corner of the spacious area, arranged around a coffee table and small flatscreen TV. Cardboard boxes in various stages of being filled were scattered around; most of the tables and shelves were bare.

"Ms. Lewis…"

"Call me Addie, Agent Booth." She crossed her arms over her chest (another oddly protective gesture), giving them a look that was a combination of bored and annoyed. And maybe- a little fearful?

"Um… Addie; we're not here about your job. We're here about Alyson Tanner."

Addie's eyes widened slightly. "You're not here about the thing at the club?"

"No; like I said. Alyson Tanner."

"I don't-" She started to deny, but Booth cut her off.

"She's your former foster sister; are you sure you don't remember?" Booth prodded. Sweets noticed that Addie's jaw tightened and her eyes hardened in anger, but other than that she didn't budge an inch.

"I've had a lot of foster siblings. I don't recall most of them; it's not something I like to remember." She said tersely. But her darting eyes told a different story.

"Look, Ms. Lewis," Booth said, in the same tightly polite tone, "We are working a time sensitive case, and we need to talk to Aly as soon as possible. Unfortunately, the only one who seems to know where she is right now is you."

A small flash of anxiety crossed Addie's tight expression for a moment, before she concealed it. "What's going on?" She demanded, her body tensing as though she expected to have to fight or run for her life.

"Ms. Lewis," Sweets stepped in, using the calm, reasonable 'therapist' voice. "We're not asking you about harboring a runaway. We don't want to prosecute you. But we need to find Aly, and with our resources eventually we will. But the quickest and best way to do that is for you to talk to us."

Addie glanced over at him. She hadn't given much of a second thought to the young looking FBI agent that had showed up next to the typical g-man who'd practically broken her door down. Most of the partners that were that young looking stayed quiet the whole time, like shadows of their more aggressive counterpart. Now she wondered if she hadn't been wrong to dismiss him so quickly.

Pursing her lips slightly, she evaluated him and came to a decision.

"Okay." Addie took a breath. "But do you mind if we sit down for this conversation?"

Booth shook his head. "No, your couch is fine. I can imagine you'd want to sit down."

Addie nodded, giving the senior agent a bemused half-smile. "You have kids, don't you? How'd you know?"

"Rebe…my son's mother used to do the same thing with her hand when she was worried."

"Oh." Addie nodded, before glancing down to pull her sweatshirt flat against her stomach, cradling the small curve that showed with the same hand. That was when Sweets realized the reason for her protective behavior earlier, and instantly felt like an idiot for missing something that should have been, to a profiler, obvious.

"I'm about four months along now." Addie was saying. "Aly was the only one who knew yet."

"So you so saw her recently then."

Addie sighed, and rubbed one temple like she had a headache. "This is going to be a long story. But to be concise, yes; Aly's been living here with me for the past week or so."

"And you didn't tell anyone? Let anyone know where she was?"

Addie flushed slightly, but Sweets had the feeling it was more anger than embarrassment.

"There's no one else to tell." Addie said, chin firming stubbornly again. "Everyone else is dead or good as; I'm the only one who cares. And don't give me the government excuse; foster parents around here rarely care and group homes don't period. Besides, if I turned her in, what then? She'd just go back to that hellhole they call a hospital down in Virginia, and maybe this time it _would_ manage to kill her."

Addie's voice was fierce along with her challenging gaze; but after a minute her cheeks flushed, though she didn't move her eyes.

"What do you mean?" Booth questioned, catching onto something in Addie's speech. "That it would kill her?"

Addie looked stricken for a second, and her eyes dropped to her lap, before lifting to look at the suddenly fascinating blank wall behind the television.

"I visited Aly a couple of times in the group home they stuck her in; a couple of times she-visited me." Addie said tactfully. She took a deep breath. "Every time I went, it seemed like she was less alive. It was harder for her to smile; she never laughed. And if you'd ever known Aly before- well; if you knew her, you'd know how out of character that is for her. Aly dealt-deals- with her problems like that. She hides them from people by smiling and pretending everything is fine, because she doesn't want to bother anyone."

"And you knew that something was wrong." Sweets provided. "Because of such a dramatic change in personality?"

"Not just that," Addie shook her head. "I know Aly hides her problems, so usually I force them out of her somehow. But she wouldn't talk about it, at all. She told me about all sorts of little things- her roommates always went through her stuff, one of the older boys _watched_ her- but she never talked about anything that could have caused her to stop caring what people saw. Like she had something super secret to hide."

She shook her head ruefully. "And then, of course, it was obvious."

"Here," Booth said. "Why don't you start from the beginning?"

Addie gave him a wry half-smile. "The beginning when I first met her, or the beginning of this mess?"

"When you first met her will be fine."

"Well, um... Aly was placed in the same house as us- Jake and I- when she was... eleven I think. Eleven or twelve. She'd been in one other home before that; I'm not sure who made the decision to place her with us. But anyway, our foster parents-" Here, Addie paused, choosing her words carefully. "They weren't great, to say the least. And there were around seven of us, I think, including Aly and not including their biological children."

Addie glanced at the agents- Agent Booth sat with an impassive expression, though his eyes may have softened a little with sympathy. Doctor Sweets, on the other hand, was leaning slightly forward; a look of intense empathy behind his professional mask.

"Aly wasn't our type; most of us in that particular house had pasts, if you know what I mean. Jake's dad was a meth dealer; most of the kids had been picked up at least once for possession or something else."

"What kind of else?"

"Tagging; shoplifting." Addie waved her hand dismissively. "I think the worst was one guy who decided it was a great idea to steal our foster dad's Colt and play show and tell at school. He got a hell of a punishment for that after the cops were done with him."

Booth and Sweets exchanged looks.

"And you?" Sweets queried.

"I'd prefer not to discuss that, _Doctor_ Sweets," Addie said calmly, meeting the psychologist's gaze with a firm one of her own. "My past has no bearing on where my sister- where _Aly _is at the moment."

Sweets recoiled slighty, a little stung by her response. "Yes, I'm sorry."

Addie nodded easily enough in response, accepting the apology before returning to her original line of thought. "Jake and I tried to protect her as best we could; one of the family's _biological _–" she spat the word like it had four letters "-sons took an interest in her, and neither of us could...neither of us wanted to see anything happen." _Again. _The word was unspoken, but not unheard.

"Did your foster parents-?" Booth questioned.

Addie cut him off with an abrupt shake of her head. "They didn't care. They're one of _those _families- they were only in it for the money. And besides, we all quickly realized it was best to stay out of the way as much as possible. Real kid always trumps foster kid, and it only took once for most of us to learn that."

Sweets and Booth both knew enough to fill in the gaps of what Addie wasn't saying. So far, though, most of what Addie was telling them only confirmed what was in Aly's file. Neglectful home at best; more likely at least somewhat abusive. At least their girl, it seemed, had been fortunate enough to be shielded from the worst of it.

"We managed, though." Addie continued. "Jake and I tried to keep her out of the house as much as possible; if she wasn't there, she wasn't a target. The school Aly went to had a couple of free afterschool sports and clubs; we got her to join those. We did homework at the library; both of us probably got better grades than we ever had in our lives because of her."

Now Booth's ears perked up slightly; this was somewhat new information.

Addie chuckled. "We made sure she was with one of us as often as possible; Jake taught her about computers in his spare time. I remember, he was going to try to start a computer business at school to earn some money…" she trailed off, eyes staring with far off focus.

"And then what?" Sweets questioned suddenly.

"What?" Aly asked, trance broken.

"What happened? What changed?"

Addie looked down at her lap. "Jake was shot. It was a drive by; the police just said it was probably just stray fire- that's the official report. They didn't even try to investigate. But really, no one down there really cares about another dead black boy, especially a dealer's kid. He was probably dealing himself and didn't pay up on time," Addie said with deep bitterness.

"Was he dealing?"

Addie looked down, avoiding the agents' gazes. "I don't know. To be honest, I didn't ask because I didn't _want_ to know. But looking back- he was getting into something, even if it wasn't drugs. But it probably was."

Booth nodded. "What happened after Jake was shot?"

"Everything fell apart after that. I couldn't handle it and I took off; I got very lucky and some people helped me get here instead of the streets. I don't know exactly what happened to Aly after that; one day she just knocked on my door."

"Did she tell you anything? Talk about anything?"

Addie folded her hands and pursed her lips. "Not really; she told me they'd put her in a group home and she'd run away from it. After that she didn't really talk about herself. I didn't push."

"Did she tell you which one?"

Addie nodded. "I have the address; I'll give it too you before you go." She inhaled a deep breath. "When she found me the first time, I told her that she could always come here and I wouldn't turn her in. I know it's illegal, and I don't care. There is no reason that she couldn't live here, aside from the fact that I don't have the kind of job you put on paper and I'm too young to pass an 'official' evaluation." Again, Addie's tone was as bitter as cyanide.

"Earlier, you mentioned that the hospital would have killed her. What did you mean?" Booth asked, eyes narrowed as he evaluated her body language.

Addie laughed humorlessly. "Aly was sent to Western because one of the other kids in her group home found her… well, you'll have read her file by now. She had enough marks to tell them she'd been doing it for a while, and then they couldn't get her out the door fast enough. When she turned up on my doormat two weeks ago, she didn't look like someone who should still be living. Whatever happened to her in that hospital, it wasn't help."

"Did she tell you anything about what might have happened? Any hints?" Sweets asked intently.

"No." Addie gave them an ironic, crooked smile. "Probably because she knew you'd turn up. Aly's smart about things like that. But that hospital destroyed her."

"How?" Sweets prompted.

"Very quiet: mostly just kept to her room when she wasn't out. She was popping pain meds a lot when she thought I didn't notice, which really _is_ out of character for her."

"What kind of pain pills? Prescription, over the counter?" Booth added.

Addie shook her head. "Nothing illegal, not even anything that strong; that's why I haven't confronted her about it yet. Aleve and Tylenol mainly; some Aspirin. She wouldn't take any ibuprofen when I offered it though. Her first night here, she took a couple of my sweaters because she was cold; she kept them on a lot." Addie's brow furrowed as she searched her brain. "Hold on, she did mention a girl named Chrissa was coming: that's why she went out every night; to look for her."

Sweets and Booth exchanged glances.

"To Citlali?" Booth queried.

Addie's surprise was clear, as was the renewed worry that flashed across her face. "Yes," she said quietly, eyes wide. "I used to work in the club; Aly knew she could find me there if she was in trouble. The bartenders and all the… others all knew her; the staff would let her use the back door to get around the bouncers."

Addie's chin firmed stubbornly as she gathered her resolve. "Now tell me, what's going on?! What is so important about Aly?"

Sweets shot Booth an unsure glance that Booth ignored and Addie caught, her eyes flicking quickly between the two of them at the exchange.

"Tell me!" She demanded.

"Have you been watching the news lately?" Booth asked.

"No," Addie replied, confused. "I've been too busy moving…"

"Well, then you'd know that Western State is officially in the process of closing down, and there's a university project going on to exhume and identify the bodies buried on the grounds."

"I don't-"

"This morning, the body of a ten year old girl was found in one of the graves. Our experts determined that it had only been there about a week and a half. The body was identified as _Chrissa_ Black."

"Oh, god." Addie clapped a hand to her mouth.

"A nurse at the hospital told us that Aly and Chrissa were good friends; in Aly's file, you are listed as a possible contact. Now, can you please tell us when you last saw Aly?"

Addie stared at him blankly for a moment, before mentally shaking herself and focusing. "This morning around nine thirty- we walked up to Afterwords Café and had breakfast. Aly said she was going to the library; she went through the bookstore and walked over to the Q St metro station."

"Did she buy a farecard or-?"

"We both have SmarTrip cards; I got her one the first time she stayed with me. She would have paid with that." Addie bit her lip. "She goes to the library a lot during the day; just takes the metro there and back. Then she comes back around three and naps before going out to Citlali until they close, looking for Chrissa."

"It's five forty seven, Booth," Sweets said quietly. Addie heard him, though.

"She called around two; she said she might be late; then she called again later and said that she wouldn't make it home before dinner and she'd try to bring something back. The kitchen stuff's mostly packed up, so…" Addie shrugged. "Aly usually gets dinner for us when she's out late. She has a debit card; it's her way of making up for changing plans, I suppose."

"Aly's fourteen, right?"

"Yes, why?"

"You think it's okay for a fourteen year old girl to be out on her own at night, _buying dinner_?" Booth questioned, a certain _tone _in his voice.

Addie's cheeks pinked. "Yes, for Aly I do. Aly can take care of herself, as she will frequently remind you. It's a habit all of us picked up from our foster parents, and one of the only things Aly takes pride in anymore is her independence. Do I worry about her? Yes, but I trust her and I have faith in her abilities. She won't thank me or anyone else for trying to assert undue authority over her."

Booth looked doubtful, but Sweets picked up the questioning before Booth could comment further.

"When she called you, did she sound different then usual? Anxious, angry, maybe scared?"

"Not really." Addie shook her head. "She sounded kind of stressed the second time, but when I asked, she said everything was fine. Her voice went back to normal after that, so I figured I was just hearing things."

"And what time was that second call, would you say?"

"Umm…" Addie's face scrunched up as she tried to remember. "Just…just before four, I think. I was at the gym and I only answered because it was the ringtone for her cell number."

That was less than an hour after they had identified Aly as a suspect and sent Angela digging. Interesting and a little spooky- as if their POI had somehow known that they had identified her and she'd gotten away to avoid being found. It didn't help Aly's image any as far as the case was concerned, but what Booth really wanted to know was how the girl had known. It could, of course, have been a lucky break, but…

_This girl found out, I can feel it. She knew we knew and it spooked her. I don't see how she could have, but she did and I am going to find out how._

Booth heaved an internal sigh. _Of course, this just made my- our- jobs much harder. _

"Can we see Aly's room, Ms Lewis?"

"Addie," she corrected automatically. "And sure, go ahead. But if you want to take anything, ask. She's got little enough besides what I've made sure she got."

Booth nodded once in acknowledgement and stood up; a second later Sweets and Addie each followed.

"Aly's room is just down the hall and on the right. Call me when you're done; I've still got an apartment worth of stuff to pack. I'll have the address of the group home written down for you when you're ready to leave." Addie said, before abruptly turning her attention away to one of the many half-packed cardboard boxes.

"Thank you." Sweets called after her, before following Booth.

"You heard what she said about Aly's behavior, right?" Sweets said to Booth in a quiet undertone. "Withdrawn, taking meds, the concealing clothing?"

"Yeah." Booth said, stone faced. He might not have been a psychologist, but he knew the signs just like every other field agent and officer out there.

"Aly might not be the right person to be looking at here. What with the signs of abuse-"

"I get it, Sweets. But Aly is the key person in this case, and we need to find her before she disappears permanently." With that, Booth opened Aly's door and walked inside abruptly.

"I'm just saying…" Sweets began, before shaking his head and giving up, following Booth into the room.

Aly's room was painted a delicate blue, a few shades just barely beyond white. It was on the small side, but a sizable amount of furniture had been squeezed into it: full size bed, dresser, desk, nightstand and several tall shelves filled to bursting with books. The window in the far wall overlooked a view of the courtyard; the light it let in painted a golden square on the opposing ice blue wall.

The walls were decorated with several posters; Sweets paused for a moment to analyze them. There were about seven or eight of them; most were posters of various gymnasts, some of whom he vaguely recognized from the last Olympics in Beijing. The others were all posters from the American Ballet Theatre, with the inclusion of one large poster for the _Dreamworks_ dragon movie.

The room almost looked like a catalog photo, it was so neat. There were no clothes on the floor; the blue and chocolate brown bedding with its trendy striped pattern was made crisply, the matching set of pillows arranged just _so_. Even the various knickknacks and photos on the dresser were arranged precisely. However, when Sweets looked inside the closet, the level of organization plummeted.

The few jackets and coats were hung up and pairs of shoes arranged in a tidy line, but other than that, the closet was more in keeping with a normal teen. Boxes of assorted items filled the rest of the space, lacking all rhyme or reason in contents and organization. Noting this, Sweets shut the door and looked around the room again for other areas of disorganization and clutter.

The only other two that stood out from the extreme neatness were the bookshelves- and the desk. The bookshelves were crammed full of cheap paperbacks in a manner that looked like it had, at least at one point, been organized in some way that made sense to the primary user. However, the desk was cluttered with hastily neatened stacks of papers and books, along with a spindle full of blank CDs and a giant box of empty jewel cases.

"The laptop's missing," Booth mentioned as soon as Sweets came over, pointing out the unconnected power cord under the desk. "She probably has it with her."

Sweets nodded in agreement, before turning his attention to peruse the titles on one of the bookshelves. A person's books were one of the best possessions to give insight into their psyche, and Aly's was – surprising. Most of the books were secondhand and tattered paperbacks or discarded library books. There were the books he had expected to find- the slightly clichéd young adult romances, the _Harry Potter_ books, _Lord of the Rings_ and _The Hobbit_\- but others jumped out at him.

_Paradise Lost_ by John Milton; _The Poisonwood Bible_ by Barbara Kingsolver; _A Brief History of Time _by Stephen Hawking. _Complete Works of William Shakespeare Vol. 1_;_ The Bridge of San Luis Rey. _There was even Victor Hugo's _Les Miserables, _along with some hefty and technical looking books on computer programming. Not exactly the sort of reading material an average fourteen year old girl would pick up outside of an English class.

He went over to the desk to look at the stack of the books there- these were all library books. Checked out ones, if the post it note stuck to the wall in front of the desk – _Return_ _Books- due May 8th-_ was correct. The pattern continued here; the stack of five books was, in order, _The Illiad, The Handmaid's Tale, Tess of the d'Urbervilles, Emma, _and _1776\. _

_"_She's smart. Or at the very least, a very gifted reader," Sweets mentioned idly, picking up the copy of _Emma_ and opening the cover, looking for a library checkout receipt.

"Yeah?" Booth asked, thumbing through the stack of papers. Most were half-scrawled notes in pencil, barely legible at all.

"Were you reading _Paradise Lost_ when you were fourteen?" Sweets asked rhetorically, replacing the last of the library books after discovering the lack of library receipts.

"No, I still preferred _Amazing Spiderman _and the Hardy Boys." Booth replied anyway, with a touch of sarcasm and slight astonishment. "Look at this," he proffered a sheet of notebook paper- with two neatly penciled lists of names and letters. Sweets took it.

_Tutoring 4-4-11__  
__ROOSEVELT_

_J. Andrews – P__  
__M. Elliot – P__  
__A. Hughes – NP__  
__M. Ross- P__  
__J. Davies – NP__  
__E. Mitchelson – P _

_WILSON_

_P. Johnson – P__  
__A. Waters – P__  
__W. Smith – P__  
__J. Monroe – NP_

The second list was on the back.

_REQUESTS_

_E. Thomas – Roosevelt__  
__T. Jackson – Wilson__  
__M. Callaghan - Wilson__  
__C. Walter - Wilson__  
__O. Burns - Wilson_  
_H. Stewart – Roosevelt_

"So she's a tutor?" Sweets asked. "We could get some information from these kids if they've seen her."

Booth nodded. "Yeah, but I don't think tutoring is why she has those kids names. Look- P, NP. Paid, Not Paid. She's selling them something. And there are no other lists for earlier dates; she must have started this one as soon as she got here."

"Are there any others?"

"One from last week, and a couple of accounting sheets." Booth leafed through the papers for a minute, before handing over a sheet filled with careful notations.

_4-5-11 _

_Expenses:__  
__Cases (100)- $26.23__  
__CDs, Blank (50 Disc) - $12.65__  
__Total Expenses $38.88_

_Sales:__  
__$50.00- 1__  
__$50.00 -1__  
__$50.00 -1__  
__$50.00 -1__  
__Total Sales: $200.00_

_Profit 4-5-11: $161.12 _

_4-6-11_

_Expenses:__  
__N/a__  
__Total Expenses: $0_

_Sales:__  
__$50.00__  
__$50.00__  
__$50.00__  
__Total Sales: $150.00_

_4-7-11_

_Expenses:__  
__Laptop- $300.00__  
__Total Expenses- $300.00_

_Sales:__  
__$50.00__  
__$50.00__  
__$50.00__  
__$50.00__  
__$50.00__  
__Total Sales: $250.00_

There were several more pages after that, detailing transactions that eventually lead up to an amount of money near a couple thousand dollars. Sweets whistled low and appreciatively as he read the documents.

"You think she's dealing?" Sweets asked. "It seems like pretty large amount of money not to be."

Booth shook his head. "I don't know. I don't think so, though."

"Why?" Sweets questioned, shuffling the papers back into order.

"Gut feeling," Booth answered. "Here, let's get these and the discs to Angela, maybe she'll be able to pull something off of them."

Booth scooped up a stack of discs near where the laptop had been, dumping them all into a surprised Sweets' arms.

"Hey!" Sweets yelped, barely catching the case of CDs before it fell.

Booth paid no attention, striding out the door and back to the living area. Shaking his head, Sweets followed Booth out.

* * *

"Sorry Booth," Angela said apologetically, popping a CD back into its case. "These are all blank; they haven't been used yet."

Booth face was stony. "Well, there goes that lead."

Angela pursed her lips, thinking. "Well, you know, based on the notes you had me look over from her room, I would bet she's loading some kind of software onto the discs and then selling it to the people on your list there."

"Any idea what?" Booth asked, looking hopeful.

Angela shook her head. "It could be anything from video game cheat codes to anti-virus security. But get a CD from one of the kids on that list and I can tell you where she got it and who wrote it."

Booth nodded. "Will do."

"You and Brennan are going to the club tonight, aren't you?" Angela asked.

"Yeah, why?"

Angela grinned. "Have fun."

* * *

In hindsight, perhaps 'have fun' might not have been the best choice of words, Booth reflected as he sped after the skinny figure rapidly disappearing into the night. Sweets- who had been pulled along at the last minute- and Bones were just ahead of him; they were both chasing their suspect- the elusive Alyson Tanner. And they were ever-so-slightly beginning to gain on her.

A good seventy to seventy five feet in front of them Alyson was running as though her life and soul depended upon it; heels clutched in one hand and handbag bouncing along on the opposing hip. They were well away from Citlali now; about half a block in the opposite direction and Booth knew that if they didn't manage to catch up soon, Aly was once again going to disappear.

All of a sudden, their fleeing suspect took an abrupt and unexpected turn into a small alleyway between two businesses closed for the night. Mentally cursing, Booth put on a burst of speed. He and Bones sprinted headlong into the alley- to confront a dark and empty byway.

_DAMNIT! _Booth cursed, bewildered.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, Booth recalled how the evening had begun.

_It was on Sweets' advice that they came up with the plan: Booth and Brennan would wait and corner their suspect later that night at the club. They would all canvas the club after it opened; Bones -and Sweets- would then remain inside while Booth went to wait in the car and keep an eye out for Aly. Bones would observe what she did while in the club, and when she left, Booth would casually get out of the car and walk over. Both of them would then get Aly and bring her to the FBI, where hopefully they would begin to get some answers. Simple enough, really. _

_The street was crowded with expensive cars as they pulled up- a veritable buffet of the best Mercedes, Lexus, and Audi had to offer in quietly ostentatious luxury. So crowded, in fact, that Booth had to park nearly around the corner. _

_It was early when they pulled up; around eight and the club had just opened for the evening. Booth parked the SUV across and just down the street: he would be able to see up and down the street easily without being too obvious. Together, he and Bones walked over, Booth flashing his badge at the currently unoccupied bouncer standing by the entrance. _

_They walked in an Booth blinked, trying to adjust his eyes to the blacklight. Citlali was one warehouse sized room: the DJ's booth, entrance, and dancing area took up the first level, with a second story platform ringing it on three sides. A short staircase lead up from the ground floor to a small VIP lounge just over the main entrance. The second story overlooked the DJ and dance floor: the main bar took up the long side with couches and tables by the railing. Several private sitting areas and additional public seating took up the two remaining sides. _

_The décor, for the most part, was a combination of LaserQuest and rave party. Citlali was space themed: the black walls were decorated with imaginative murals of planets, galaxies, and stars done in fluorescent paint. More planets painted with fluorescent colors hung from the ceiling; the floor was painted with small fluorescent stars. Even the support columns for the second floor were fluorescence. With the blacklights, the whole effect was that of floating disorientation. Booth didn't like it. _

_And neither did his partner, though for an entirely different reason. "-there are no galaxies in that color, and the scale of the solar system is completely wrong. Jupiter has a diameter eleven times bigger than that of Earth. Besides, all of planets are depicted as gas giants. The colors are completely wrong!"_

_Booth shrugged. "It's a club, Bones; I don't think they care all that much."_

_The three of them proceeded across the deserted dance floor and up the staircase to the second floor. Booth noticed that each step was edged with reflective tape and more bright orange fluorescent paint- a safety measure, probably. _

_As opposed to the empty dance floor there were a few patrons at the bar and scattered among the low couches; all with various drinks in hand or nearby. There were a pair of bartenders was on the job; a willowy young woman with a blonde pixie cut and a nose ring, and an early twenties man with several tattoos up and down his arms who was busy fixing an order._

"_Can I help you?" The girl asked with a disinterested tone, seemingly more interested in the counter than the customers. _

"_Yeah, actually," Booth said, again flashing his badge. "FBI. Two things. One; where can I find someone who can get me the security tapes for the past couple of weeks, and two; have you ever seen her around here?" He dug out a small photo of Alyson and handed it over. _

_The bartender blinked. "Manager's office is just up the VIP stairs and on the left." Booth looked over to Sweets, who nodded. "On it."_

"_Now," Booth began, "Do you recognize her?" He pointed to the photo in the bartender's hand. _

_The bartender looked down and considered the photo for a moment. "Maybe. I never talked to her- she never ordered any drinks. But yeah, someone who looks like that comes here every night. Comes in with the crowd; hangs around until closing usually."_

"_She stays until closing without buying drinks? Wouldn't she be asked to leave?" Brennan asked, sounding surprised and a little confused._

_The bartender shrugged. "To tell the truth, I just assumed she hung around until closing, because that's usually when she's around when I'm working. About an hour when things start to pick up and then the half-hour before we close. Hey, Tom!" She called to her co-worker._

"_Yeah?"_

"_You know this chick?"_

"_Let me see," Tom replied, taking the photo from her._

"_You said this person 'looks like' the one in the photo. How are they different?" Booth asked, while Tom studied the image. _

_She shrugged again. "The girl who comes around here is a bit…well, you know…older."_

"_Yeah," Tom smirked as he handed the photo back. "And…what?!"_

_His female coworker was giving him a look of exasperated disgust. "You know, there are other things to look for in a woman besides her being attractive."_

"_Well, yeah, but…Sarah, all I'm saying is you don't get much hotter than that girl. Every night, more than half of this club agrees with me."_

_Sarah rolled her eyes. "Yeah, the male half," she muttered. "Bunch of cradle robbers."_

"_Hey!" Tom protested. _

"_Tell me she looks a day over eighteen even with her _outfits_ and I'll take it back." _

"_Okay, fine; you win; you're right." Tom sensibly agreed, ending the argument before it could turn begin. He turned back to Booth and Brennan. "So, yeah; she gets hit on a lot. You know, the servers probably know her; what with all the drinks she gets; she talks to them a lot too." _

"_Security definitely would." Sarah added helpfully. "I saw them card her a couple times."_

"_Did she ever get shown out at all?" Brennan pressed._

"_Not that I know of." Tom replied. Sarah merely shrugged again and shook her head. _

"_No; never. One time the new bouncer was suspicious of her card and asked her to leave, but the manager and a couple others took him aside and nothing happened. Don't know why, though."_

_Booth exchanged a glance with Bones. _

"_Alright, thank you for your time, guys, we'll let you get back to work."_

"_-how could they not toss her out? I mean, if the bouncer was suspicious of her ID, why would the manager intervene?" Bones questioned. "The club is liable for the presence of underage teens in their establishment."_

"_Bones, my guess is that our girl either has something on this place or she's doing something for 'em. Aly's sister said she used to work here; I'd bet that has something to do with it." _

"_But I thought- ooohh." Brennan realized. "She was using the club to find her customers."_

"_Bingo." Booth confirmed. "And if there's a popular club there's usually drugs somewhere nearby. Plenty of dirt for blackmail."_

_They reached the bottom of the stairs and headed over to the VIP staircase. _

"_Is that why you asked for the security footage? To try and find evidence of drug deals?" Brennan asked. "Because we could also have Angela look for Aly's movements to determine what she's doing here."_

_Booth gave an ironic smile as he knocked on the manager's door. "That's why I asked. Any evidence I can hand over to the local cops is just icing on the cake." _

_It took an hour of arm-twisting for them to get the security footage they needed, and even then they didn't get all of it- just the cameras on the 'public' areas and kitchens. That only heightened Booth's suspicions of illicit activity, but he didn't press for now. That wasn't his job- his job at the moment was to find Alyson Tanner. _

_Having gotten the tapes; Booth headed to his surveillance spot in the car and the others to roam the rapidly filling club. Several hours went by without hide nor hair of Aly showing up, not even on the security cameras. _

_By now, the club was raucous, stuffed full of people and blaring music. The blacklights along the walls made the fluorescent murals glow, and dozens of bodies gyrated on a packed dance floor. They writhed against each other in sexual pantomime to the music's shattering beat. _

_Along the bar and on the edges of the floor where the crowd was somewhat thinner, hard-eyed women in revealing clothes and sky-high stilettos lingered. They gave easy, sultry smiles that didn't reach their eyes while small packets and wads of cash exchanged hands in several out of the way corners. _

_Occasionally, a well dressed individual, usually male, would ease their way across the floor and into a back room, where a door labeled VIP closed quickly behind them. Every member of the crowd was anonymous, the fake fog drifting around enough to confuse even the most familiar face. Women dressed in designer labels mingled with men with shady looks; women and girls in tight, cheap, revealing clothing smiled at men in crisp shirts and slacks. _

_Brennan circulated through the second level, had held to her earpiece as she tried to simultaneously communicate with her partner and Sweets, avoid being hit on, and keep an eye on the crowd. Sweets was doing the same thing, though he had a slight advantage in the somewhat smaller number of people hitting on him. _

_Booth waited impatiently in the car, more than ready to go home and get some sleep before reporting for work tomorrow morning. Or, rather, later this morning- it was almost one: closing time. _

"_Agent Booth; I vote we call it a night," Sweets shouted into the phone. "It's twelve twenty; past peak time for a Thursday and nearly closing. If Aly was going to show up she would have by now."_

"_I concur with Doctor Sweets," Brennan added, with a similar volume. "Although the social dynamics are fascinating I am beginning to worry about auditory damage due to the increasing music volume."_

"_Besides, we can always come back tomorrow night. Or even try her sister's place again," Sweets suggested hopefully. _

_Booth leaned back, holding the phone. He sighed, rubbing his forehead. As much as he hated to call it quits, Sweets had a valid point. Plus, he was exhausted, and they all had a full day of work tomorrow. _

"_Alright…" He started to agree, when something caught his eye across the street. "Hey, guys, hang on."_

"_Booth…" Two voices echoed simultaneously- one cautioning, one irritated. _

_Booth ignored his partner and the psychologist for the moment, training his eye on an alley by the club. Walking cautiously out of it was a slim, short figure dressed in a red leather jacket, black mini dress and heels, hair down around her shoulders. Booth watched, intent. His gut was screaming at him that this was their mark. _

Look up!_ He thought hard at her. _Look over here!

_She paused by the glow of a light, glancing furtively around as if to make sure she was safe. For a fraction of a heartbeat, her face turned toward the black SUV where Booth was waiting. It was barely a glance- but Booth was able to get a clean look at her features. There was no mistake; it was Aly. _

_Instantly, Booth was back on the phone. "Guys, I got her. She's across the street, in the alley next to the club."_

_Slowly, trying to act nonchalant, Booth opened the car door to get out. As he got out of the car, trying to avoid notice, Aly, with one more glance around, began inching out of the alleyway and walking down the street. Booth breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Bones and Sweets emerge from the club, and that Aly continued, seemingly unaware of their presence. _

_Booth closed the door to the car. Sweets and Bones had seen and was walking purposefully towards him- when Aly, now within about fifteen, twenty feet of them, suddenly froze. Her eyes widened, as if sensing the trap they'd laid. Brennan grabbed Sweets' arm to stop him from continuing forward. _

Shit-

_And then she walked forward as if nothing had happened. Around the drunk partiers headed home for the night; headed for the line into the club. She joined the end of it; the small crowd of people waiting to get in. Bent over to check the ankle strap on her heels. _

_Booth breathed a small sigh of relief and went over to Sweets and Bones; walking over to the line and Aly. As they got closer, a small group of mildly intoxicated friends bumped into their path; momentarily obscuring his view of their suspect. _

_When he had a clear sight again- Aly was no longer in line. She was clear of the milling mass, standing just to the side in the clear. And she was staring straight at him. At them. _

_Perfectly still, like a deer caught in the headlights. For a few moments that felt like an eternity, they stared at each other. Until, with a small exhalation that Booth felt rather than saw, Aly turned and fled. Caught by momentary surprise, Booth took off after her._

"_FBI! Aly! Stop!" He yelled after the fleeing girl. Beside him, he could hear Sweets yelling something similar. Predictably, she didn't stop. Not even so much as a slowed step or a backward glance. _

Regaining his breath, Booth kicked at a stray piece of trash and cursed. Beside him, Sweets was still catching his breath.

"Well, that went well," Booth muttered darkly. "Any other ideas?"

* * *

**Holy Crap that took a long time. Writing should not take this much physical effort; it should not drain my energy like finishing this chapter did.**

**FYI bonus- the song I had in my head when I pictured the club scene was Masterpiece by Noni from the Beyond the Lights soundtrack. It just seemed to fit. **


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